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Monday, December 31, 2012

SMILE THERAPY 46







Smile Therapy 46

I am in smile therapy
knowing I can feel the
love.

Happy New Year to
all my readers
TJKG

Saturday, December 29, 2012

POCKETS OF TIME





"Ever notice how ' What the hell' is always the right answer." Marilyn Monroe



Pockets of Time

They found Marilyn
in the nude--

ordinary as milk,
or exotic as an orchid,
or caught between lips
which whisper
words that
paint immortalized pictures.

Pictures lost in a matrix
of twisted vines
latticing despair
and laughter,
birthing love and hate
in the pigment of fading time.
TJKG
 

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE CHRISTMASY AT SCHOOL



It’s Supposed to be Christmasy at School.

Bambi’s  pooled eyes knows to fear the gun shot;
a gun took his mother’s life.
A child knows to fear guns, to fear real guns.
Black metal, gun powder, a trigger finger …
Guns take.
One shot will take a classmate,
A teacher,
A friend,
A mother,
A father,
An uncle, A cousin,
His enemy,
His brother,
His sister.

And now there is more than
GUNS—
There is fear
where there was safety…
Where there was learning,
there is pain…
Unimaginable pain is
when  tears fall on
the unexplained.
There is blood stained
on tiled floors,
dripping from colorful poster-board--
children scrambling, hiding under desks.
There is not time for lock-down drill.
The practiced routine,
the pledge of allegiance to the flag.
Line up for massacre,
the lunch bell rings--
the church bells weep.

A man.
A man.  A terrorist.
A man,  
is running through the halls
with a
gun,
a gun,
a real gun.
The noise is deafening.
The shot.
The shooting.
The screaming.
The scream.
We are crying.
The rotations of the
ricocheting bullets
puncturing softly into
the dewy skin of your kin, and then
there is coagulated silence,
where only the heartbeat
of the living witness and struggle to keep on living.

tjkg


There is no sense there is only documentation. Let each soul that is lost to tragedy rest in peace.

Monday, December 17, 2012

SMILE THERAPY 45

I pray for the families who wont see their children or their parents this morning as if they are my own.


Smile Therapy 45

I am in smile therapy
as my children come
down the stairs this morning.

TJKG
If you have a moment watch this shot clip-
http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=Hzgzim5m7oU&vq=medium

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

12-12-12

12-12-12


Let us take this day and make it the beginning of our end. Let us take the monumental number to celebrate our awakening as spiritual beings in quest for peace, harmony, and change. I find the number 12 follows us through history and is a natural resting place from the spiritual to the mundane. Take a moment on 12-12-12 and pray for peace for our planet and harmony for upcoming change.

12 months in a year. 
12 tribes of Israel
12 gods of Olympus 
12 old testament prophets
12 hours on a clock face.
12 inches in a foot.
12 strikes to bowl a perfect game.
12 people have walked on the moon.
12 face cards in a deck.
12 days of Christmas.
12 apostles of Jesus.
12 signs of the Zodiac.
12 pairs of ribs in humans. 
12 represents harmony 
1 is yang 2 is yin equaling balance

Monday, December 3, 2012

SMILE THERAPY 44-- SERVA ME ET TE SERVABO


Smile Therapy 44

Monday morning Smile Therapy goes like this:

I am in smile therapy when I learn 
it is 11:30 p.m. Monday in FUNAFUTI and it is 6:30 a.m.
here in PHILADELPHIA.  I want to go to
Funafuti in the South Pacific where the sun has already set
and the FUNafuti has begun.

TJKG  --And thank you to all the people who read my blog--
I am honored to have hit 10,000 views on Friday. : )

 


Friday, November 30, 2012

CAIN'S MARK

“Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” – Proverb


Cain’s Mark


These marks
on the surface of my
skin have begun to
run and form tunnels
to my heart.

Those marks, coy as
shy tears
and dysfunctional lies,
wrangle with the
raped raw
arteries of my life
pushing blood to

those marks from
red stinging
finger tips, crashing
on the surface of my flesh,
leaving
a road map
to my magnum opus.

The mark, the fingerprint,
the passionate bruise,
the blood;
the symbols of my heart
are the bull’s eye for
my marks-woman’s rifle--

a bullet giving birth to
my stricken life,
fallen,
cursed,
risen,
and found
to be the score of my purpose.

The marks are now on my bones,
in my breath,
inscribed on my sword,
touched by my dignity,
and guided by my strength to
lead these scars forward.

TJKG

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

SMILE THERAPY43-- OOPS ON TUESDAY

Smile Therapy 43

I am in smile therapy
with this practical statement--

"Since everything is in our heads, 
we had better not lose them."
 Said Coco Chanel to Ken.


Monday, November 19, 2012

SMILE THERAPY 42

Smile Therapy 42

I am in smile therapy
even when I can't think
of anything to smile about!

Please share a smile with me.

TJKG

Saturday, November 17, 2012

MEDIEVAL CODE OF FAITHFULNESS


Medieval Code of Faithfulness

A black and white of Earhart,
(hung above pearled porcelain tiles)
her stoic eyes read a fate in the sky,
a fate written on equalities’ hidden water;
no exceptions for the life of the woman.

Before morning has started,
stored on flash memory,
I fade into a hallow hallway—
silently moving along time,
finding myself a part of the dark chamber,
displaced out of their family pictures—
Mother and Father--
still faces hold history,
own dignity of choice,
posed hands passing secrets,
souls unknown to my mind.

Breath strapped in my step as my
eyes shutter the light of
the open bathroom door.
                                       Amelia’s fate
is understood; 
a rounded woman sits in my frame.
Her legs spread,
white paper magnified,
black curls fallen, and
blood.

TJKG

Monday, November 12, 2012

Friday, November 9, 2012

REELING AND HUNKERING




REELING AND HUNKERING
(Under Sandy’s Fire)

Rise up in distress,
descend in compassion--
I used to hang out as a blond.
Controversial and twisted,
a hurricane of night’s questions--

not much could shake me--
                                           now--
other than life, or one glimpse of death.

Life is a language of red lines and fallen trees,
a quiet way, a convincing fire to demand a step aside.

She is a resurrection of her windy sin,
a sheath of rain reflecting.
Her soul’s body is listening to

the crank of hell left in my heart--
a callous which no longer defines me,
time’s evanescence  tunes the morning light.

I will not be my own burden--
rummaging through the
dialect of guilt—
it was a moment when the bars in my heart
began to melt.

She looked at me last night
and questioned her meaning;
I looked at her today and
understood mine.

If I speak too loudly, I will be the prisoner.
If I walk too hard, I will crack.
I remember in the quiet of midnight
the owls’ unfathomable flight.

TJKG