VISTAS: An awareness of a range of time, events, or subjects. A broad Mental View.
January 26

"Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly."
-G.K. Chesterton-
Little Rag Muffin Doll in a cup
Mouse Drawn from Tutorials
at PSP Country School


My tummy hurts tonight, not sure why but it just does. Guess maybe it's just telling me that I am alive, even in it's unpleasant way.


"The happy people are those who are producing something; the bored people are those who are consuming much and producing nothing."
- William Ralph Inge -


a day spent in bed for the most part, drugged up with pain killer, and anxiety of the trip tomorrow to have my wisdom cut out of me.


my world is a different color than everyone else's
there are colors no one can see but me
they lay hidden deep inside where I keep them safe
waiting for the day that I can open up the lock box and show them
maybe they will always be hidden inside of me
maybe they are not to be shared.


A morning thought
Saturday morning before the invasion
Little laughs and stuffed animals

I can't wait for the little ones to come
I just hope and pray that I do not make them sick
For they are precious


Where does life take us
Or better yet is that the question
Or is where do we take life?


I feel dead inside
emotions boiling, churning, and confusing
what do I feel? really feel?


Sunshine and sorrow
moonlight brings the morrow

Winter winds and Cool breezes
January means hard freezes


I have been awake to long
Oh boy what are my thoughts today

A soft feather pillow
a warm well worn quilt
darkness, in an empty bed

It all sounds so inviting
to stretch this worn body
to allow the stress to leave

To forget the troubles of the day
and to turn into myself
and the sweetest of dreams

Where I'm wrapped in strong arms
held close
cherished for the duration of my slumber

Where nothing can harm me
or take me away
where there are no worries of what the next moment will bring

I could float on a cloud of cotton
soar like an owl
or drift like a fallen leaf

I may hear the soft strains of some forgotten song
see a forgotten flame
slowly spreading melted candle wax in a pool

Now if only I can make them so
and not the nightmares that keep me awake
or hear the screams from within

When I close my eyes, will it be of wonderful dreams
or horrid nightmares
Maybe just darkness

As the sandman sprinkles his dust over me
I will think of the bunny I saw this morning
playing in the frozen snow


Where all think alike, no one thinks very much.
- Walter Lippmann -