

Do you like homemade things? Or are you of the camp that believes it looks like homemade hell; don’t bother if you can buy me something?
Poetry, writing, drawing, painting and more.



Nowathome.Wordpress.com
Lagottocattleya.com
This morning, I popped into Kroger. As I get close to the door; I notice employees are just standing there watching …. something. It’s one of those moments; you have those thoughts, do I have dog poop on my pants? Leaves and twigs in my hair? What?
They draw my attention to a man in the parking lot next door dancing away. Yes, dancing at 7:40 in the morning. He’s got the moves and way more energy than I do. Not enough caffeine yet. I stand and watch for a moment, the employees that have been watching say that he was singing, shouting, and dancing as he went through their parking lot.
Then as he turns on his heels, saluted in our direction and danced away.
I want to beat you about the face and eyes.
But, I won’t.
I want to pound you until my arms ache.
But, I won’t.
That greasy spot on the pavement;
that was you.
But, I won’t.
I want you to feel and know the pain you cause.
But, you won’t.
You are so wrapped up in yourself you don’t care what your words or actions does to me.
But, you wouldn’t care any way.
I want to scream at you until you understand.
But, you won’t. I would just end up hurting my throat. Cause you won’t listen.
Why am I so unimportant to you? It’s all about you and what I can do for you.
There was never give and take. Just take.
Because, you want.
That blood stain in the carpet; that was you. Because I want to kick the tar out of you. But, I won’t.
Any ‘good’ thing you did for me, wasn’t out of love. It was so you could lord it over me one day.
Because, you want.
God, the law, and morality govern me. All the bad things I want to do to you;
I won’t.
I can guarantee you this; excommunicate me, you can want in one hand and crap in the other. See which one gets full faster.
You want. I won’t.
https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/11/18/excommunicated/
https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/10/30/honor-thy-parents/
“To thine own self to true.”
How, when you’re not sure who you are?”
“To thine own self to true.”
How, when the world fights against you?
“To thine own self to true.”
And the world will crucify you.
Taken from ‘The Reconstruction of Me’. A collection of poems I started in the early 2,000’s. Not a published book.
“To thine own self to true.” William Shakespeare Hamlet Act 1 Scene 3
Have you ever had a heart broken? That pain is ours to process individually.
Brute force ripped my heart out , clogged danced on it in the mud, then gave back.
My baptism was fresh. My zeal for God was on fire. I weaponized the Bible. It became saturated with blood and sweat. My feeble arms ached as I showed no mercy!
As my relationship with Christ has gotten stronger, I realize this was demonstrous. It was wrong of me to use God to vindicate my broken heart.
I pray that someday God gives me the opportunity to apologize.
This my the original version that I cut down for the 100 word challenge.
https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/12/05/broken-hearted-72/
One day, I started looking on WordPress at others work. Ya’ll are very talented and creative. Thank you for sharing. Some of you, I haven’t been able to see your work. I keep getting “content can’t load”. Some, I can’t figure out where to go to like/appreciate you work. 😢 Sorry.
During my reading, I came across the creative writing section and stream of consciousness. This was extremely interesting.
Below is my first attempt at stream of consciousness.
Sitting Here
As I sit here staring at my computer screen;
I’m waiting.
Waiting for the chief security officer to review Tuesday’s feed and get to me.
What is all that chatter? Is no one working? Sniff. Aroma. Coffee, take a gulp.
This is annoying, I have a piece of bagel stuck in my tooth.
The Christmas tree is pretty. Stupid tree! I didn’t want to put you up. A painful reminder I’m not in the mood for the season you serve.
Paperwork every where to do. What a mess. Waiting to learn new process. Why? What was wrong with the old way?
My head hurts. Delivery company run arounds. It would be nice to scream and shout.
What would the neighbors think? The school across the way? Or the garage. She’s nuts.
Heavy sigh, more rain. What a mental drain.
Someone answer my e-mail. I have work to do.
What joy. What fun. I’d rather be at home with my dog.
Time just keeps ticking away. What a day.
Dust on my keyboard. I should really clean. Nah.
Oh yeah, here’s some work to do. Really don’t want to.
Joy.
I should have set those Christmas lights to twinkle.
Finally, something to do.
Shakespeare wrote: “All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players.” As You Like It Act 2 Scene 7 William Shakespeare
I say: “we are the stage and life is the actor.
Play you.
It will play you.“
2002 – Taken from ‘The Reconstruction of Me’. A collection of poems I started in the early 2,000’s. Not a published book.

https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/11/23/your-disability/
