musings of madness

it's a bumpy ride

Just a blurb...
So, what happens to we at the bottom?
When those at the top, play their cruel games?
We at the bottom are struggling and sinking.
Seems the world wants to swallow us, and take us away.

Rolling us over
...knocking us under
...gasping for breath
...when we come up again.

Possessions, and treasures,
aren't important for living
Give us shelter and walls, for keeping us warm.
Let there be bounty, for feeding our family.
and let us be happy,
...healthy and good.

I'm just wishing on a star,
Sitting under the moon.
Hoping my simple dreams will come true.
Please Universe. Peace Universe,
Please Universe,
Save of us from doom.

A reading bonus!
Yes! Janny Wurtz just published the long awaited sequel to Initiate's Trial. It's been six years since she's posted anything, and I have missed her voice.
She is my absolute favorite author. If you ever want to read a fantasy series that will take you on a stunning ride- start with Curse of the Mistwraith's. I'm trying to not gobble it up in only two or three days and am actually reading Initiate's Trial again so I remember everything.
Another author I'm very fond of, Michelle Sagara-West, hopefully will finish War soon, I believe that will be the last of Jewel's story, although I hope to see more. There's always plenty to dive into with MSW. She is prolific and writes three series currently. These two ladies kick GRRM butt also in story building. If you want to read MSW's Jewel series you have to start with Hunter's Oath. I've read this series twice and there are 14 books and counting!

In a different vein, am gathering wool for whenever Idol writing starts. How many peeps go back through their old work and correct it, or think about sequel pieces? Are writing some of the same characters considered lazy? There are a few I've come up with I wouldn't mind continuing, like Fox and Sam. We'll see. I may just write some for November and push myself to write everyday. I've noticed my fingers get tired, and that's when I double tap or hit the wrong key more. I'll have to do some heavy editing!

Anyhoo, that's it peeps! I'll talk with you later! Peace and hugs! ✌💗🐀🐁

Kickin' the can in the ole noggin again...
These next few posts I imagine, will be tough. My tremors are getting extreme, and my hands go places of their own accord. I'm hoping if I write a little more it will help me to gain control. As it is now, I double tap, swipe in two or three letters at a time, or simply just scrape and press the wrong letter altogether.

It's a morass of churny feelings too. People who knew before are shocked by the manifestation of me that they see before them. I've lost about forty pounds, am on oxygen, and am hobbling with my cane. Altogether not the picture of hyperness that they expect! (The forty pound weight loss is nice though!)

I am constantly going to Doctors visits, and the positive I've found about oxygen is they don't have you wait too long. I don't know when/if I'll be weaned from it. It depends on the congestive heart failure.

This is what I've got for now kids! I'll be writing to you soon! :)

Home Sweet Home!
I am out of rehab! Yay! I'll have Doctor visits out the wazoo and visiting nurses 3days a week, but it feels. Good to be amongst my own things. I
Thank you all for your well wishes and concern. It made the stay easier. (Along with reading your entries) Hugs and love and peace too you all~~~D

Autism files...
When my grandson was an eighteen month old toddler, I began asking my daughter about his speech and comprehension skills, followed by his motor skills and movements. Autism - I knew by the time of his birth- was now a known genetic trait and I did not wish its myriad difficulties (and joys) upon my daughter.

It also didn't sit well that the trait was carried mostly by the mother, and my asshole marine son-in-law would have a field day torturing my beautiful bratgirl with the fact that this was all her fault-he had nothing to do with it.

The "Super-Bobbers" wasn't talking yet either, but his speech could be delayed, which seemed to be everyone's consensus, but the back of my neck niggled with grandmother's intuition.

To my daughter's annoyance, however, I would gently ask her if he was speaking yet every time we chatted. "A little bit." She replied. And in her quiet response, the same type she had as a child, I knew she was a bit worried herself, but not at the stage of needing a diagnosis - or dealing with her husband's derision.

She, my Marine son in law, and my grandson, were still living in South Carolina at the time, so I didn't get to see them as often as I'd like. Yet, when I did see them I would make sure that I hinted on Autism Spectrum. Not to unjustly antagonize my son-in-law's 'authority' but from genuine concern.

Usually though whatever I suggested was not received well by the 'Fatigued' ogre. To me, the biggest thing was my super-little dude's safety, and my son-in law's RESPONSIBILITY was to acquire it.

Meanwhile, my grandson was running out of that magical space of time between one to six years, where Autistic children have the ability to form new neural pathways, and rewire some of their brain. Grandma was not about to let that happen! Not if we could find a way to communicate with him.

So I challenged my SON-in-law. Get him checked by an independent scholastic psychiatrist for autism. If it turned out he wasn't on the spectrum- great! I'd never say another word about it. If he was, we would find out where to go from there.

How did I know these things? My son is Autistic. I learned how to deal with those who stared or shunned me because of my child's behaviour. I wanted a different outcome for my sweet daughter, and my happy, oblivious, grandbaby.

Sure enough, when the super-baby was tested, Autistic he was. To my credit not once did I dig at my Marine Son in Law about it.

Since he has been diagnosed my super dude has had speech, behavioral, occupational- and more, for four years now. He is verbal, affectionate, and a great kid to be around, though still obviously Autistic. I do wonder how much further we could have gotten if we had caught it early, but nothing good ever comes from that.

Please do not miss your child's second year evaluation/pediatric visit. This is when most cases are identified, and more children are able to be helped.

My family did because of relocating from South Carolina to Delaware and life took over.

Don't let frustration, fear and life cost you your Super-dude. Schools are equipped with the skilled staff needed to help them-and you- break down the walls. You never know who is hiding inside them!!

My Son's (Nicholas) Spoken Word - Asperger's Why did you choose me?
ASD why did you choose me;
Can you find the pieces that I cannot see;
Please just be patient with me;
'Cause I would never wish this to be your reality;

I know I haven’t written in a bit; I admit; please take a seat; please sit;
I didn’t quit the rap game; just sometimes I’m trapped in my own brain;
suffering from a disorder tied to disdain; so used to having to hide and tame;
cause why would a kid who used to ride the short bus even have a shot at fame.
Autism Spectrum Disorder; ASD, is a division of who you are cognitively,
and it grinds and quarters; your 5 senses into lines and borders;
Certain smells will be so sickening I can’t even chime in to order
certain foods cause their aromas are like war crimes and mortars; 9p
going off in my nostrils that send chills down my spine and shoulders
twist my stomach and binds my mind like hostages in Columbine.
My sense of taste can make glue and paste taste like a shit filled pastry,
simply because taste buds enhance bitter and sweets;
sweetly bitter; bitterly sweet sweetly sweeps me away senselessly,
and touching certain textures fill me with manxiety;
pain is intensified and can bring me to knees; but please don’t baby me,
'cause I suck it up and enjoy the pain; just like I enjoy the feeling of falling rain;
physical stimulation positive or negative makes me positive I still exist;
even when I feel negative consequences it brings me back to my senses;
Grounds me; and I get a moment to ponder deeply -

ASD why did you choose me;
Can you find the pieces that I cannot see;
Please just be patient with me;
'Cause I would never wish this to be your reality;

And Christ vision and sight are the two senses that tend to bite the hardest at my neurological might; bright lights
easily irritate me, makes me want to box and fight
my fucking brain 'til it gets in right;
and sound, comes in mounds, of broken compounds of information;
constantly losing signals like a deserted desert radio station;
if I ask you to repeat yourself just know I was trying to pay attention;
it's hard to focus when your mind is blind, yet sees all at the same time.
It's why I hate chaos, but love rhythm and repetition;
but that doesn’t make me a simpleton, because I like simple sins;
Are you listening to these rhythmically and verbally converted bars, G?
Did you know when I spit these, this the only time I feel like society accepts me?
And yet ironically the only time I accept my disability; and accept me for me.
because commonly you treat me like I am basically a handicapped mentality, so kids with disabilities become failed members of society.
Because society decided to fail them and me;
so socially I forced myself to be you, so I could be publicly acceptable because I am tired of your not accepting me for me; we live in a constant nightmare; that you get to be awake to see;

I am not malfunctioning machinery made maliciously
just to be sensory overloaded, and efficiently always reaching max capacity.
I am maximizing my ability to hyper-focus verbally, with vicious ferocity;
'cause I am sick of this stigma limiting me, from confidently; accepting me for me; accepting this will always be my reality.

ASD just had to choose me;
Maybe we can find the pieces I cannot see,
Please just be patient with me;
Be patient with me and my Reality.

And Now For Something Completely Different
I'm in a surreal place this week. My future holds some terrifying prospects, and I am not in the driver's seat. I'm doing a good job of pretending I'm cool - but I'm petrified. I believe once I know for sure what I'm up against, I'll actually feel better...maybe. Wait, here, let me fill you in.

Some of you may know I've been going through tests for my heart. We're in search for why my blood pressure skyrocketed to 200/110. During these tests, I woke up last Friday with my right side causing considerable pain. Saturday it became unbearable and off I went to the Emergency Room.

There we discovered I had a serious case of pneumonia and pleurisy in the middle lobe of my right lung, as well as a 3.5cm sized mass. I will be seeing the pulmonologist on Tuesday.

If the new tests confirm that I do, indeed, have cancer, I have no one to blame but myself, which carries its own guilt trip. I knew the risks and still continued to smoke, believing (like an idiot) it couldn't happen to me. Well, I'm about to find out how much my defiance will cost me.

Consequently, this week I'm having difficulty concentrating on building a story and plot; So instead of my usual fare, I'm giving you some poetry. The forms I'm using were created by Emily Romano. The first form is based on her Musette.

It consists of three verses of three lines each. The first lines have two syllables; the second lines have four syllables, and the third lines have two syllables. The rhyme scheme is a/b/a for the first verse; c/d/c for the second verse, and e/f/e for the third verse.

Witness For The Innocent

Who hears
The plaintive cries?
Deaf ears.

Closed eyes.
Fragile spirit
dead lies.

Life lost,
Cold is the grave.
What cost?

Stained cheek
for tender soul.
I'll speak.

Raised voice,
Renounce hatred.
What choice?

Touch hearts,
Speak words of truth.
Change starts.

The second form I'm using is called The Tableau, again created by Emily Romano. Each verse has six lines and every line should have five syllables, and no set rhyme scheme, although rhyme may be present. The title should contain the word tableau.

Emergency Room Tableau

Schroedinger's cancer,
Says report in hand.
More tests are needed,
Biopsy and scan.
My habit to blame
For lung's newfound mass.

Emily Romano is an American Poet, born in 1924. She married in 1942 and has four daughters. (Imagine the daily spats over bathroom time in her house!) She is still alive and publishing today. She has created eight (eight!) new forms of poetry. The Brevette; Essence; Memento; Mini-monoverse; Musette; Octelle; Pictorial, and The Tableau.

Rules and examples for these forms can be viewed at:…

***All concrit/discussion is welcome.
** Yes, am now testing for lung cancer.
* Don't feel badly- my fault for smoking for forty years.

To Hate, Or Not To Hate. TW Rape, Violence, Death
"It's going to turn cold soon Maddi." Nine year old Trina informed her older sister as they readied a camp beneath the thick boughs of an evergreen tree. The tree would provide them some cover from the elements, and the fire a deterrent from predators.

"I know." Maddi replied, her voice thick with exhaustion. The fifteen year old had used up her ability to shield them from sight, and her head was pounding from the constant use of her magic.

Maddi had three gifts; the ability to find water, to shield or hide them from sight, and the power of suggestion. Her magics had kept them alive these years they've been running.

"We need to find a place indoors."

"I know."

"We won't survive out here, not when the snows come." Trina elaborated, using a stick to stoke their campsite's fire
"I know, and your constant telling me so doesn't help." Maddi growled, now irritated enough the thought of sleep fled.

Maddi had hoped for more time before needing to find winter lodging, but Trina's weather sense was uncanny, So far it seemed her only gift, but they wouldn't know for sure until she reached womanhood.

"I know." Trina replied in perfect imitation of her sister.

Maddi gasped, indignant, and Trina giggled. Maddi, finding it impossible to stay cross with her little sister, began laughing too; until reality intruded and their mirth turned to weighty sighs.



"Tell me about them again, please?"

"Will you finally hush and go to sleep if I do?"

"Yes, I promise!" Trina said.

Maddi sat up and propped her head on her elbow. "Ok, throw me that stick and get in your blankets. I don't need you getting a chill."

Trina did as her sister asked and when she was ready, Maddi, using the stick to coax the fire, began...


She, was a kitchen maid apprenticed to the cook, and had dreams of one day reigning over her own Lord or Lady's kitchen. She was beautiful, with chestnut hair and light golden eyes. Eyes of the Fae.

Cook had found her as a babe, wandering along the riverbank. Terrified the child would slip into the currents, the soft hearted cook brought her home. Cook's four boys protected the child, and cook, having always wanted a daughter, adopted the girl when no one stepped forward to claim her as theirs.

He, was the youngest son of the stable master, and an excellent farrier in his own right. He was handsome with white blonde hair and merry blue eyes. His back was broad, and his hands were strong, but when they touched her skin, they were gentle. As children they grew up together, played together, and to no one's surprise, they fell in love together. Their names were Yana and Petre, our momma and papa.

In less than a year they had a daughter to share their love with, and their bond grew stronger. They took joy in raising their child, and five years later decided she needed a sibling.

The child, to her parent's dismay, was not as convinced. [Trina giggled here as always, and Maddi grinned.] Once she held her baby sister however, she fell in love, vowing to always be her champion.

The little family were happy together and their two girls grew tall and straight. One with hair of moonlight, and golden eyes of the sun, and the other with hair of copper, and eyes the blue of the sky. Their names were Maddi and Trina, and their parents loved them very much.

Maddie's sixth birthday had passed when their evil king decreed that every Lord and Lady, and every croft and farm, pay a levy to the king. He was a gambler, and a wastrel, and the people were forced to replenish his coffers, only to watch him fritter it away, time after time. Worse, if the king's unfair levies weren't met, they were taken as slaves, or killed.

On the day the king's men arrived at the house of Yana's and Petre's Lord, the cook carefully hid Yana from sight, knowing her beauty would tempt them. Still the evil men found her, and dragging her from the kitchen, forced her to serve them. Pawing at her clothing, they pulled her into their laps, trying to kiss her with their fetid breath,

Cook ran to the stable, telling Petre of the misuse of his wife. She watched helpless, as he stormed to the keep, and prayed the lad wouldn't be killed.

On his way to the hall, he overheard plans to take Yana as a slave, and deliver her as a gift to the king. Petre rushed back to the stables, and telling cook what he learned, readied the mule-cart. He gathered his girls, and with cook helping Yana escape, the family fled into the night.


Maddi glanced at her sister, and seeing her asleep, fell silent. Trina did not remember their parents, or their deaths, and Maddi was grateful for that small mercy. She had watched everything and would never forget. That was the night Maddi had lost all childhood innocence.

Maddi had been eight going on nine and Trina just under three, when the king's men had come late in the night; Their farm dogs insistent barking woke papa, who, looking out the window, could see torch light in the forest.

He immediately grabbed his bow and arrows, dressed hurriedly and woke momma, telling her to take Maddi and Trina and hide. Papa then held them all close, kissed momma, slipped out the door and was gone.

After dressing everyone warmly, momma picked up Trina and ran with Maddi into the night. They were angling across the fields, headed for the tree line, when a cry from the king's men rang out. They had been spotted.

Momma half dragged them to the closest haystack, and desperately digging out a hole, bade the girls to burrow deep 'like little moles' and to stay quiet; to not come out, no matter what they saw or heard. Once they were hidden, their beautiful mother then took off running in the opposite direction from where she had left her daughters.

Suddenly the night reverberated with their father's anguished cry of "Forgive me, Yana." coming from their croft's front yard. Maddi almost screamed as she watched the king's men, run her papa through with their swords.

Yana stopped running, and flew to where her husband had fallen. Like a fury she came. Growling and snarling at the king's men until they shrank away from the she-devil in their midst. She cursed them as she lifted her husband's sword, thrusting it into the belly of the nearest man.

The men fully surrounded her now, and unsheathing her dagger, she intended to run it across her throat when she was grabbed from behind. The men kicked the knife from her mother's hand and bore her down to the ground, kneeling on her arms, forced her legs apart, while laughing at her futile struggles. They ripped open her shift, proceeding to rape her -- again, and again, and again. Momma was dead long before the last man spilled his seed.

Maddi stuffing her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out, witnessed it all. The horror of watching her parent's deaths almost unhinged her young mind, and Maddi felt numb with shock. She rocked her thankfully sleeping sister, and whispered her goodbyes to her parents, promising them she would always take care of Trina. That she would join them one day in the netherworld.

A strange sensation blossomed in Maddi, a perverse warmth that wanted to replace the cold numbness. It wanted to coil in her heart like a poisonous snake, ready to strike. To twist her soul with the red-hot fires of hatred and vengeance.

Maddi did not hesitate. She pulled it in close, fully embracing what it offered. She would use it to achieve her goal. Maddi would avenge her parents even if it took twenty, thirty years...or forever. She would hound these men, here on the Earth or into the netherworld...

And she would make them all pay...

***Again-not my best, health issues are plagueing me
** All concrit and discussion welcome
* Thank you to my n3m3 for giving it a perusal. To my surprise the piece stood on its own. If it doesn't- I know how to find her! Bwahahaha

Tears for Manchester
It's ironic that this week I wrote a piece for therealljidol that dealt with the sudden death of a teenager. I wish I had decided to tackle the subject matter at another time.

My heart bleeds for all the mother's whose children won't be coming home. Who's children have just been maimed, and their lives forever changed.

When is the world going to be sick of painting itself with innocent blood? Sowing the soil with rivulets of tears. Filling the air with the screams of the dying.

When will we stop the perpetual circle of hatred and death, which only fosters more hatred and death?
When will the world find peace?
Please let it be soon...

Trolling all peeps! Trolling all peeps!!! Shameless begging!
For those of you who don't know it, in TheRealLJIdol this is intersection week. My partner Murielle and I could use some love, it is Murielle's first time under the pressure of being a team. I'm afraid she will forever be scarred if we don't see the other side of this week! Please, for the sake of a lovely person and a fantastic writer who is starting to spread her wings, please don't clip them. Thank you! Hugs and peace~~~

Linky Dinky to the poll- where we are trolling for your vote found here:

Linky dinky to Murielle's piece here:

And to my ntersecting piece:

Thanknyou again for your consideration and heeeeeellpp! :-0😨😼👾🙏👯👯


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