Tuesday, March 2, 2021

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss! Sorry about the Democrats!

Okay, I’m royally and officially pissed off now.  BookBurnerBiden (or whatever Pelosi cabal is pulling his raggedy puppet strings since he’s OBVIOUSLY in the early stages of Dementia) has decided that Dr. Seuss’s books are racist.  Apparently, with our country fighting COVID-19, massive job losses due to COVID-19, school children having mental health crises, Cuomo killing grannies & sexually harassing young women, a monopoly on leftist Internet companies, massive election fraud, HAARP and general Democrat insanity at the southern border, BookBurnerBiden decides to 1.  Bomb Syria, then 2.  Ban Dr. Seuss books. Every morning I wake up and feel like I’m in a badly written YA Dystopian novel.  

I rest my case.  I miss President Trump. πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡ΈπŸ‡ΊπŸ‡ΈπŸ‡ΊπŸ‡ΈπŸ‡ΊπŸ‡ΈπŸ‡ΊπŸ‡ΈπŸ‡ΊπŸ‡ΈπŸ‡ΊπŸ‡Έ The Grinch is waving at Biden.





Sunday, February 28, 2021

Movie & Music Recommendations


‘Dance, Rascal Dance’ by The Bleachers
from the soundtrack of “Hello, My Name is Doris”.


This is a hilarious and touching movie (on Amazon Prime) that made me laugh and feel good.  Age is only a number as Doris so admirably exemplifies.



DANCE, RASCAL DANCE 
By The Bleachers

Dance like you’re on fire
Roll down the window to your love
I got a strange desire
To move with you, move with you
Give you a piece of my love

Hold on, take me higher
Make me bolder oh
C'mon through this fire
Yeah we don’t get older oh
Dance rascal dance

Like you’re on fire
Roll down the window to your love
Gimme all your strange desires
C'mon move with me, move with me
Give me a piece of your love

Hold on, take me higher
Make me bolder oh
C'mon through this fire
Yeah we don’t get older oh
Dance rascal dance

I move my feet
I grab your heart
I take your hand
We play apart
Our bad desires
Our restless souls
Take my heart
Take control
2x

Hold on, take me higher
Make me bolder oh
C'mon through this fire
Yeah we don’t get older oh
Dance rascal dance

~ Jack Antonoff

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Saturday, January 16, 2021

Starlings in Winter by Mary Oliver

 


Starlings in Winter


Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers, 
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can't imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.
Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,

even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots 
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard, I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings. 

"Starlings in Winter" by Mary Oliver, from Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays.

**********

My current opinion on today’s political climate:



Sunday, January 10, 2021

Dystopian America, Coming Soon...






^^^^^^^^^^

“The greatest destroyer of love and peace is abortion, which is war against the child. The mother doesn't learn to love, but kills to solve her own problems. Any country that accepts abortion is not teaching its people to love, but to use any violence to get what they want.“

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^




Wednesday, December 30, 2020

πŸ”₯ Burning the Old Year by Naomi Shihab Nye πŸ”₯

Scooby & Garfield on my lap & my Christmas toes... 


**********

Burning the Old Year

Letters swallow themselves in seconds.   
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,   
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.

So much of any year is flammable,   
lists of vegetables, partial poems.   
Orange swirling flame of days,   
so little is a stone.

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,   
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.   
I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,   
only the things I didn’t do   
crackle after the blazing dies.

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Burning the Old Year” from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems (Portland, Oregon: Far Corner Books, 1995). 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^



Scooby Doo with his long arms, napping on his couch...


May your 2021 be filled with joy, peace, health and happiness.

From:  “Little Gidding”

Amen & Hallelujah!!!



Friday, December 18, 2020

Merry Christmas! We’ve Survived 2020!

I pray you all have a peaceful, healthy, blessed Christmas and an enlightening New Year!  

I’m amazed & grateful to God that I survived 2020.  I’m finally off the Gabapentin/Neurontin completely after titrating for nine long, slow, grueling, horrifying, deeply depressing, painful, mentally disturbing months.  I’m still having bad days, but I feel my brain healing.  I feel as if I’m coming out of a coma.  My memory has improved 100% & I’ve lost 10 pounds since stopping completely.  

My sweet 91 year old mother and brother-in-law have both survived COVID, so we’re grateful for that, especially since Mama smoked 2 packs of ciggies a day for 75 years.  She had zero symptoms. 

Even though our brindle Pit Bull literally ate our old sectional sofa—-cushions, wood and all—- this year, we’re happy to have our crazy Scooby Doo.  Now I can get a new couch—-that’s bulletproof!  There’s nothing on earth that Scooby won’t eat or attempt to eat.  The two cats are happy and healthy at 18 years old.  Garfield runs from Scooby, but Little Debbie stands her ground and scratches his nose or Velcro’s herself to his head.  It gets wild and funny.  

Thank you to all of my faithful blog followers and visitors.  I appreciate you all.

Wishing everyone love, blessings & happiness,

Marion 🧚🏽‍♀️


Luke 2:8-20 (NET)

Now there were shepherds nearby living out in the field, keeping guard over their flock at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were absolutely terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! Listen carefully, for I proclaim to you good news that brings great joy to all the people: Today your Savior is born in the city of David. He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a vast, heavenly army appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

    “Glory to God in the highest,
    and on earth peace among people with whom he is pleased!”

When the angels left them and went back to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, that the Lord has made known to us.” So they hurried off and located Mary and Joseph, and found the baby lying in a manger. When they saw him, they related what they had been told about this child, and all who heard it were astonished at what the shepherds said. But Mary treasured up all these words, pondering in her heart what they might mean. So the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen; everything was just as they had been told.



A couple of my favorite live Christmas songs:




Little Drummer Boy


Monday, November 23, 2020

Last Week in a Few Photos & Quotes






Evergreen Plantation, Louisiana



Yes, my CBD/THC is still working. πŸ₯³πŸ₯³πŸ₯³



 

The Shining, a little family movie... πŸ₯Ί



 

Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Collage Poem & Collages by Me






 The High Priestess by Eric Tocce






Collage Poem

By Marion


Three weeks ago

in the early evening

I sat at my desk composing

a new spin on language...

harnessing the powers of the universe,

dreamtime,

and inner space.


Treading softly, breaking taboos,

creating realities

that never before existed,

I destroyed imaginings that cried

out not to be.


I became the High Priestess

of mystery,

words,

dreams,

and ambiguity.


My writing only lead to more writing.


Words multiplied like rabbits in my brain---

pregnant with language---

my imagination in labor,

gloriously giving birth

to newborn poems.


7/10/08

Sunday, November 8, 2020

Tell Me a Story by Robert Penn Warren

 


Tell Me a Story

[ A ]

Long ago, in Kentucky, I, a boy, stood
By a dirt road, in first dark, and heard
The great geese hoot northward.

I could not see them, there being no moon
And the stars sparse. I heard them.

I did not know what was happening in my heart.

It was the season before the elderberry blooms,
Therefore they were going north.

The sound was passing northward.

 

[ B ]

Tell me a story.

In this century, and moment, of mania,
Tell me a story.

Make it a story of great distances, and starlight.

The name of the story will be Time,
But you must not pronounce its name.

Tell me a story of deep delight.


ROBERT PENN WARREN

From New and Selected Poems 1923-1985 by Robert Penn Warren, published by Random House. Copyright © 1985 by Robert Penn Warren.