#Haiku Horizons, Full

Ego, inflated

spewing false truths, toxic black

Full of himself, Slick.

Flabby stomach hurts
Pangs of sugar induced pain
Full of sweets I love.
English: Sweets from Argentina.


Drape my arm, full moon
Sleeping there soothes my love’s pain.
 Watching over her.

Haiku Heights – Lullabye


Something must  stop me

From worrying and crying

Darkness, a sad song


Many years ago

I would sing to my children

To soothe them at night


Soft lush tones whispered

Sometimes we are all children

Happy for a lie


My mom sang to me

In a soft foreign language

My eyes fluttered shut


Bad Habits that Need to Go

there's no need to worry this is just a vacation

Image by Robert Bruce Murray III // Sort Of Natural via Flickr

A Buddha, I’m Not


I worry sometimes like a mother-trucker and it is not good for me (or anyone else). Of course I have tried to stop doing this but I was born worrying, straight out of the womb, six weeks premature (immature too?) and into the incubator for another six weeks. I am convinced that the separation from my mom is a cause. Perhaps I never felt soothed or comforted in the hospital, that’s just my own philosophy. The effect? I was also an anxious child who had to have my “questions” answered by my father every single night. Anticipatory anxiety, intense worrying, convinced something bad is going to happen before I have actual facts. I’ve tried the occasional anti-anxiety drug (which can take a slight edge off) but mostly, I try to breathe, sing, distract and write. Will I ever stop worrying? Doubt it.

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