Well, today is the day! The one day a year we all come together and celebrate our Independence! Yes, that’s right it is the FOURTH OF JULY! Where no matter where you are in this country, no matter how illegal it is you are going to shoot off fireworks! The day no matter what race, religion, sexual preference we all come together to blow shit up!

However, I always think of the song “INDEPENDENCE DAY” BY MARTINA MCBRIDE!

It is a country song, yet the words, the words are powerful! It tells the story of a woman that was beaten and battered for years that finally won her Independence by setting the house on fire with her husband in it! She may have gone to jail for her actions yet she did it with a smile on her face and protected her daughter in the process. She won her freedom that day the only way she knew how! This song simultaneously makes me makes me cry and gives me a sense of peace!

This song came out in 1993! It came to me at a time in my life where I thought I would never find my Independence! I was 16 and with nowhere to go living under a tyrannical abusive parent that I was sure would kill me before I was 18 and able to leave home. This song gave me hope for a future I had yet to see! A future I hoped and prayed would come sooner rather than later! Independence means something far greater to me than The fourth of July!

At eighteen I left and never looked back! I even said I would never come back no one believed me! Everyone in the small town I am from thought, that I would come running back in a few weeks or months with my tail tucked between my legs a miserable failure!

I never did! Yes, I stumbled along the way and I have been through a lot of educational experiences! Yet, what I found was breathtaking… I found me. I found the strength to carry on and  celebrate my own Independence Day… every day!

Every day that I don’t compromise who and what I am for someone else’s gain, every day that I don’t give in to others despite my reservations, every day that I love and cherish my kids, every day that I don’t raise my hands in anger, every day that I don’t make someone else feel like nothing for my gain that is my Independence day!

I feel for those still struggling and I hope and pray they find their way to their own Independence day minus the fire of course! Yes, we are celebrating out countries Independence from the British today but if you have found your own personal Independence you know as well as I do that it is a daily celebration! To be able to be free to be who you are with no persecution and criticism! To  live life happy that is the dream and that is my Independence Day!

What’s yours?



One of my favorite 80’s movies is COCKTAIL. I love it because of course, it is a chick flick. However, there is a suicide and a power play over money.  I think that just gives it the touch it needed to make it seem like well, reality.

I haven’t seen this movie in years but I watched it the other night and something weird happened. I began listening more intently to Coughlin’s laws.

My favorite line in the movie is a letter from Coughlin himself after his untimely death. He sends the letter to Brian and talks about why he killed himself. At the end of the letter, he says COUGHLIN’S LAW: BURY THE DEAD. THEY STINK UP THE JOINT. 

Now I have watched this movie so many times I have lost count but this time, this time, this line got to me. I don’t know if it is the fact that I am a writer now and certain lines in movies speak to me differently or what, but this one little line affected me. It has been haunting me for days now.

You know how it is when you get a certain word, or sentence stuck in your head when you are in the middle of a writing project and it doesn’t seem to go away until it is down on paper, or in this case computer. That is how this line has been affecting me. I find that it is on some sort of loop in my head. Driving me to madness. So you see I had to share it to hopefully get it out of my head to make room for more stuff to write.

But, what does it all mean? This one little line seemed so simple has become something else entirely.  I am baffled as to why it astounds me, due to the simplicity of the words. It is common sense to bury your dead lest they stink up the place. Yet, the power in those words as he said them seemed to more meaningful than that.

It conjures images of dead rising from the grave on a moonlit night, emitting foul odors. It makes me want to write something dark and twisted, and I may do a poem or a short story off of this line, but for now, I will pray that this line doesn’t stay too much longer in the forefront of my mind…


I couldn’t think of anything today so here is a poem I found to share:

I have many things that I want to say,
I try to break the silence that doth them detain;
I speak yet the words seem to turn away,
Hence so I always do just silent remain!

I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve,
And it’s up for you to see,
Or hear or feel or just believe:
The kind of heat that burns in me.

There are other sorts of speaking that I tend to seek,
Since all the feelings are entrapped inside my heart:
I rip this bleak chest open and it blood begins to leak,
Then draw you a castle of roses and to you this gift impart.

I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve,
And sometimes I wish to be,
As cold as stone just to relieve:
The kind of heat that burns in me.

I catch a dozen doves then set them free high in the sky:
To sprinkle over you the red roses that I did draw;
Then crimson rain doth fall and all the showers are but dry,
For you I’d make it rain and give the sky a scarlet glow!

I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve,
And the love just seems to grow,
And the passion doth my body cleave,
And the heat melts all the frozen snow.

Silence fills the air while soundlessly sets the sun,
You did not say one word, all you did was speechless be;
I could’ve done much more but enough with what I’ve done!
Since you, my chosen one, have chosen not to be with me!

I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve;
I’m not a hero, I’m just a man!
I could not help it but to grieve:
From all the heat that through me ran!
by Danny The Dreamer Boyd


Few things can actually ASTONISH me anymore. Yet, once in a while I get spooked if you will and that happened to me recently.

I have been writing a lot of blogs this month. While I appreciate my blog family supporting my rants at times. My actual family never reads anything I write. I have no support system other than the ones I have created in the writing community.

I have learned to let it go because they are not writer’s they don’t get that sometimes the writing writes itself. Sometimes you have no control over what you write. It just comes to you. You know.

As I said before no one in my family has really encouraged me to follow my bliss they have even seemed confused at times as to why I would want to write. I think they may think it is some sort of phase I am going through. They don’t get that it is a part of me. I write because it soothes my soul. It is who I am. It is in every part of me, down to the molecules in my body.

However, I was still taken aback the other day when I wrote a blog a good one I might add. It even got good reviews at my open mike night.

Yet, when I came home from working a very long grueling mandatory Saturday I was berated for writing it. From a very close person in my life that never reads, any of my stuff, they just happened to see it on FB.

Apparantly, taking it personal when this blog was nothing more than about women enpowerment. Anyone that can take offense to that must have something to hide.

It simultaneously saddened and pissed me off. How dare anyone try to censor me. How dare anyone try to take away my rights of freedom of speech.

Especially when they have never supported my writing or even been interested in it at all!

Someone that has taught me to speak my mind and and think for myself now wants to censor what comes out! Really?

They even had me feeling guilty for writing it that is why I didn’t post this yesterday. No more!

All I can say is beware of the pen. It is mightier than the sword and while it broke my heart to hear the words that slithered off your tongue like poison. I will never stop writing. I have found my bliss never let anyone even those you love take that from you…

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/astonish/”>Astonish</a&gt;


I couldn’t think of anything today so I thought I would share a poem I found called DOLDRUMS OF TANTRUMS BY THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

The moon has spilled all
its star dust on the ground.
The left side of the world
says boo hoo too long.
I say to myself whats
the use of bothering.

All trees have become
allergic to their leaves.
The left side of the forest
can’t stop spitting bark.
I say to myself all that
is just a bunch of noise.

The brass band has
broken all of their trumpets.
The left side of the cafe
all punch the air with care.
I say to myself you can’t
sweep up life ain’t fair.

The bombs have all gone to
bed except for one you know.
The left side of the shelter sit
to stomp their feet on the floor.
I say to myself this is where
action is flickering in fiction.

I’m stuck in my far right
corner feeling numb.
It’s not at all my fight
but I am NOT dumb.
A tramp of inflammation
retreats in my lungs.




<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tantrum/”>Tantrum</a&gt;


The sweat poured down her back in a RIVULET of saltiness. The sun rode the sky high now, a sea of angry red fire.

“Only two more hours of this crap”, she thought to herself. Only two more hours and then she could immerse herself in the man-made air conditioning.

She plunged her hands into the plant to retrieve the tangy fruit it yielded. The leaves scratched her weathered fingers for the umpteenth time she winced at the stabbing pain.

That didn’t help because the droplet of sweat that hovered just above her eyebrow rolled right into her cornea stinging the bejesus out of it. Which caused her eyes to water even more.

Now she had muddy streaks of tears rolling down her face and even more, sweat dripping down her face. “Hell can’t get much worse than this,” she thought as she finally located the sweet red fruit and pulled it off the vine.

she tossed it into the bucket and finally slowly and carefully used the inside of her flannel shirt to wipe her face. She never used to understand why she had to wear long sleeves in such scorching heat but the first time she wore a short sleeve shirt she ended the day with horrible itchy scratches all over her arms. Still carrying traces of said scratches she ached for some ointment or even a cold glass of iced tea.

Face clear as she could get it, for now, she moved her attention back to the task at hand. She grabbed the crate by each handle and scooted on her knees to the next bush. Through the hard-packed earth that had not seen rain in days, Now giant globs of what almost seems to be stone instead of just a clump of dirt. Her knees where surly cut and bleeding by now.

She repeated the previous step as she jammed her fingers into the bush to pull out the juicy red fruit once again. There were significantly more on this vine and as she pulled them off and began tossing them in her bucket her stomach began to growl.

Realizing she probably missed lunch judging by where the scorching sun was now located she grabbed up a nice fat extra red ripe one and stuffed one end into her mouth. It was instant ecstasy. The red fruit was sweet yet tangy the juices mixed with tiny tons of little seeds dribbled down her chin as she devoured the entire thing in a couple of bites.

Now sticky she didn’t care as she smiled at the seemingly endless row ahead. Revitalized, from the nourishment it provided, giving her the strength to continue she whispered, “who knew tomato picking could be so much fun!”


The most NOTABLE thing about me depends on who you ask.

To the world I am a servant. Serving my husband, my kids, everyone but myself.

To them I am a maid, cleaning up after everyone else’s messes. Leaving no time for my own messes.

To them I am a chef. Always having to figure out what’s for dinner? Meanwhile, no one ever cooks for me.

I am also a taxi, carting one or the other to and fro. Never seeing a dime of that fare.

To them I am a toy. Only to be taken out and played with at his discretion. Only there for his pleasure.

To the world my most Notable quality is my ability to disappear. To be seen and not heard, I think that’s their motto.

All because, I am just a woman!

But, if you ask me what is most NOTABLE about me. Then I will tell you.

It is the quick wit of my mind, yes I have one of those.

It is the curve of my spine, the softness of my lips, the power I wield at the juncture of my thighs.

It is the love and kindness I show in the face of bigotry.

It is the strength I posses to hold my family together.

It is in the way I walk strong and true. With purpose and pride.

It is in the way I balance all the balls I have juggling in the air at any given time.

It is the ability I have to never disappear… For I am a woman!

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/notable/”>Notable</a&gt;