Don't Stop Living

Anger and all that, happy or more than that, upset and everything, under the weather, not feeling right. What do we say, you, I...I feel not well, IM BLUE, yeah right, played out! How awkward. What

is right and wrong with me? Nothing, everything-- everything, everything, that is, this is, she is, I am, I just don't feel myself? Huh? sick of it. I believe our days as fleeting, happy, sad, raining, not raining, hot, cold... snowing.  I will say here in Ontario Canada, The North, it's Raining, feeling crap about that sometimes, but better than snow, so here we go....moods... ;) up, down, its an awful feeling, some moods lead to suicide, let's get out some sharing. 

The song now on the radio, Who are we mistaken, it's not me, it's not my family" "What's in your head" Zombie- The Cranberries, now soaring me even further at this moment in this very moment, about why this happens, the subject is-Why are people choosing to die, why do they turn to a tragic end in their story. I want to know if we knew why possibly it may help.   People wanting to stop living, it's so much and way to horrific to even think about it, even for a second, some people have to carry this tortured thought with them.

I could say I don't know, more importantly, I don't know!

Though what if the reason or one reason could be, or part of it, somewhere the reason that people turn to Suicide is due to this nature that lives in us somewhere, possibly, the Gossip.   If it was gossip-if this was the reason, people felt they couldn't go on anymore, would we stop? Could we? Stop to think better the next time we had a misuse of what one word could do? Words do seem to be powerful. Some people get upset about a spelling error, imagine a misinformed shared secret that is not true in the least, that would certainly do much, much, more harm then silly spelling errors.  I am sure this can happen and I am sure we can change it, our thoughts, our words our actions.

In any case, gossip may be a factor possibly? Which can be handled better, much, much better, in me, in you?

We wonder over and over, why people are and have been making this extreme and final choice, extremely-sadly to stop living, we have not got this one yet! I'm thinking it is our gossipy-gossipy ways that cause such tortured souls. Has to be gossip..the things we say, the words we speak have power, choose them wisely is what I think needs to be thought more about, collectively.

If it is not that then all I can say is words have power, they do; they have been known to make people feel good, cause laughter all that good, positive fun stuff.

(in-tree-ged) The Proverbial Tree In Forest Stuff Part 3

About this;  Can you really know someone, put yourself aside, feel the love or laughter or the pain? What if they are liars, what if they aren't? What if they have pain they don't speak of? Do you know if they fall, when they fell, have they've fallen, how many times have they fell?  Have they gotten up, will they fall again, if so will you hear it? Don't know....? Will, the tree get up?

Art by Jason Mann Abstract Artist, 

Simcoe, ON 2013

Tree's have these massive scars and you can see them, touch them, the marks that they have.  When they stretched tall and long, firm and grounded, their twists of bark turns into their beauty. Still, if it falls do we know? We don't. Can we know? Yes perhaps one day- Maybe, I don't know? What if someone hurts themselves from stretching, do we hear that?  The answer remains, I don't know?

Much about other people is so unrevealing, but the tree is in truth tall, and strong. Is it stronger then humanity, if it can not get up?  It falls too. Is it ugly? I don't think! The oldest of them all is the most beautiful. Is it negative to call a tree old? Or to say that it has fallen, then wonder if lightning struck, did someone cut the tree down...?  Our life source.  Did it hurt when it fell, we don't know that either. Do we gab on about the tree, make points about it, discuss the lengths of age or beauty or rotted or was it cut?  Is it wrong to want to know more?  Do we want to know more? The question is, do we care if the tree fell?  Did we notice the tree before it fell?  Why does a person care so much to ask?  If so, does this person care? And why, so?

I saw two deer today, this morning. So close to me only- 10 feet away!  To deer!  Looking puzzled, I looked in awe of an overwhelming aspiration to want to hop on the deers and ride away with them galloping over troubled waters as gently as they do.  I was with my son, my dog and his poop bag.  I looked at the deers, I turned away abruptly. I hope I didn't hurt their dear feelings.  Did I really want to hop on with my son and go for a joy ride? Hell ya! 10 feet away, I turned away.  I didn't hear a sound. Looked again, the two deers; gone- not in sight and I didn't hear them leave. Sadly, wishing I could feed them apples and carrots, but couldn't. Then someone told me I can, with apples and carrots, damn.  Life is beautiful, did I see two deers? And not hear them come close to me, ten feet away or even gallop away. I didn't want to hop on them though, that I was lying about. But I did want to walk around with them looking for carrots.

The only answer to these intrigues or curiosities is this. Hey, maybe you don't care about the damn tree falling that no one heard anyway? Or my keyboard typing away, or the deer rides.  But what if no one asked that proverbial tree question, long ago?  Did you hear?   If we don't ask, how do we know?

We weren't there. We don't know.  Do we surmise that we know what happened?  When it happened, how it happened, to which it happened, in the light of day or dusk when someone stumbles upon or over it- what, how, why but who?  We do not know these things. So simple, do we even know anything?   Our judgments cloud our perceptions about the love of a tree that fell one day 6ooo years ago, an 18-year-old tree, and we are still puzzled.  We don't even know that it fell until we see in broad daylight, or at night, that it has fallen....a big old tree like that.  A gentle fall it must be, perhaps it made a huge crash? I never heard one, maybe its the loudest crash in the world ever?  I won't chop one down though I do know that!

It's a judgement when we want answers we know nothing about. When all I want or what I want for our earthly humanity of trees is that they don't get cut down. To me that is abuse.

Just don't cut them down, then there is no problem.

A Paranoid Princess 2016 Tamara Thompson

A Paranoid Princess 2016 Tamara Thompson

You may not be able to see as I walk casually and cooly by,

Not from my breaths sigh, nor the colours of shadows in the corners from my eyes.

Not from the drapes that hover crossed over my head,

Not from the clutch that I clench as I dashingly jet.

You will not know from the crisp sound clicking of ice as I wiggle my hips,

There is no way to tell, as I hide my rouge blushed lips.

The paranoia comes in a rush, a quick burden discovered by deep disguise,

My mind is thrown around thrashing, wishing a weave of washed up lies!.

I fall out of line, choosing my madness as it crawls to my wavering side-

wagering roulette, picking a wrong number and watching it slide.

My thoughts ramble and rock me as I roll, then catches me off guard,

"Who have you been with, why were you so long at the garage?"

My love is ripping, unable to sew,

my soupy thoughts seep in to what I think I may know.

Paranoid clashing behind closed steal doors,

It is a puzzle, a clue, a memory, quite like told folklore.

Trying to match up the days, with a wandering lust,

With questions needing answers from the mountains of mild mistrust.

Trueness uncovered in the sheik, shreeks of the night,

Again this has started a long paranoia fight.

To love, or to be lost-

a question I skim to secretly seek,

To be real in this one life, or fight to be fairly false-

a fake fantasy.

It is not funny though, as this is not a fun-fair delight,

I scream to my temperance with such watchful meddling might.

gathering my thoughts, that burn a lingering cold,

a break in this life to be loved, to know

to grow together; old.

My paranoia has Won, another day scowled and shattered,

behind my breath, I scream to be mattered.

Forcing to realise that I am fiercely favoured in life and Home,

Leaving my unkind sorrow to another day, as it lingers and is mourned.

I am a paranoid Princess, with a frightful disguise,

You will never be able to tell

from the shadows bleeding from the corners of my eyes.

Belle's Song 2015 Tamara Thompson

Belle’s Song 2015 Tamara Thompson

I wipe the morning from my eyes,

Sweet dreams of clouds scatter on by,

I give my hair a twist and a quick toss,

Look up at the clock,

Realize then, it’s way too early for any lipgloss.

I put on my cowgirl hats, as cowgirls do-

A pretty dress and some cowgirl boots.

I search high and low for my diamond ring.

I trot along and sing my cowgirl song.

I think of a boy, that I kinda sorta like,

Though he’s not worth a dime, or worth the fight.

There’s some chill in the western air,

Nothing but my song and some western flair.

Although it shows, they like to make fun,

It’s only begun, as tune my hum.

I’ll be the one who rides against the southern air,

Riding high on my horse,

With my cowgirl hat holding my hair.

I sit down to let out a sigh,

Not letting this dream pass me on by,

I shake it off, look to the southern sky,

I’ve got days to fill and horses to ride,

No time for confusion, or for boys that don’t care,

A western girl, who has a western flair,

I sing to the tunes of Dolly and June,

Don’t worry about me boys,

I won’t be home anytime soon.

You see me ride, without you by my side,

If you really want to know, I wished for you and I.

Through another day's done,

Goes down the southern sun,

I tune my hum, for a nother song, just begun.

You give me that look, like I'm now supposed to care,

It’s you my darlin’ who lost a southern girls flair,

I put on my lip gloss and toss my southern belle’s hair,

Yours missed your chance boy, you took me as a dare.

Pretend then that I don’t know your name,

I’m one in the same a lady and a dame,

Even a wild horse I can truly tame,

This gal’s got to go, i’m sorry for your shame.

I got my spurs, my saddle and I’m off to chase the sun,

I got a song in my heart and a ballad to be sung,

Say goodbye then ol’ fella, you know you had your chance,

To be with this southern belle, to have my first dance.

Instead then, I’ll sing, as I climb up on my stage,

That’s when you will see me next, when I have my own fan base.

Make Some Noise 2017 Tamara Thompson

Make Some Noise 2017 Tamara Thompson

He wakes, his tiny feet scrambling,

Hello, wake up, it is morning and it’s so new,

Let’s do something fun in the sun's afternoon.

He clampers and stomps as he wakes to lead the day,

He shouts, let’s go, let’s get out of this place.

The mother yawns, a favourable roar,

The father sleeps like a feather, not shaking awake,

The mother crawls from her place,

She is ready for the day.

The son yells breakfast at a loud instant and halt,

The mother whispers, it’s coming,

let’s sit while the sun comes up.

Good morning my boy, what a delight to be near you,

I could not bear to see you, clambering about,

I had to get up to, to see the sun come out.

Hello, dear mother, what a wonderful day,

It hasn't even started, but I am glad it started this way.

My dear boy, your smile, it’s incredible to see,

Your smile touches my heart so incredibly.

I can’t believe your mine,

I can’t believe I’m yours,

Can you believe it, you're here,

I am here too, I’m yours.

My son what a delight to see your bright eyes,

To see them makes me want to pick you up, up high,

Never mind sleeping, it can be done again at night,

This sight I have been given is all that is right.

I love you, my son, let’s stop the clock, I will show you the world,

Forget covers, for pillows or lying in bed.

Let’s sit forever, as I pick you up to show you the sky,

Not a day goes by, that I am thankful for my sweet lil' guy.

It’s you, it’s really you, I say this every day,

How could a mother's life be lived, there isn’t any other way,

Oh boy, my dear, my darling, my son,

You are richer than the ocean, then the moon or the sun.

I will take you to places, show you things you should see,

Like whales from riverboats, like rivers with undertones,

Like sand between the toes, and ice cream that is so cold,

Like love and tenderness, forgiveness through time,

Like sitting on the porch, reading, looking up with a smile,

Like living and wonder about everything there is,

Like laughter and cracks of courage

and about looking-

From only within.

There isn’t a day that goes by,

That I don’t remember your cries,

Your tears of pain, as I think back to the days,

You, just a lil’ boy, so eager to learn,

A mothers love was given the day you made it to Earth.

DragonFly 2017 Tamara Thompson

DragonFly 2017 Tamara Thompson

I saw you one day, then the next and the rest,

The summer, that I sipped my wine.

A dragonfly who would be my best friend,

I knew you would come, to speak to me-

To set me free.

Flying free as a dragonfly,

As I lay in the sun, sipping my wine.

Whispering with your wings,

How the world can be as beautiful,

That there is a life out there,

For mine to capture, as I drank my wine.

I didn’t believe you at first,

The day you first arrived,

I listened to you though,

My only friend, a blue dragonfly.

Why are you so blue?

I asked you and you asked me,

You had a message for me,

To lift my head up to see,

How beautiful the world can be,

As you spoke to me.

So I sat that summer,

Waited for you to drop by,

Fly in from your flight,

“What fool was I- to speak to a dragonfly”,

Though how was I to know, beauty from a lie?

I was crazy to speak to you,

Though you asked me to,

The summer you chimed in,

The summer I let you in,

Let go of my wine, what misery was I?

And live a life, slipping on by.

Straight Up 2017 Tamara Thompson

Straight Up 2017 Tamara Thompson

She looks straight up,

She sees a world before her,

Her eyes are large,

Though not meeting many eyes,

She looks straight up,

Straight up to the sky.

She moves through life,

First fast, then slow,

Never underestimate,

What a straight-up girl knows.

She tilts her head back,

And gains a wider view,

Arms fall to her side,

She sees you before you catch her eyes.

She stands up straight,

With a posture so poised,

She looks to no one,

Though it might seem so.

Her mind is wide,

Much wider than her eyes,

She stands straight up,

Her mind wanders with her gaze,

She sees the world before her,

From a much smaller place.

A Moths Wing 2017 Tamara Thompson

Silver Linings
Jason Mann
Abstract Artist
Canada, ON

A Moths Wing 2017 Tamara Thompson
I DREAM IN POETRY
On Amazon for my second poetry book

A muddy moths wing,

Carelessly flutters by,

Attacking or so it seems, he strikes,

Rubbing your arm, then shoulder, then wrist,

Skims crossing your cheek,

You move from left, then to the right.

His wing swings, quite swift.

The murky moth asserts its bland tinted wing,

Ready for a battle -or so you think.

Dodging its flapping flutter,

-Angrily he spins.

A moths wing,

Muddy in disguise, distasteful as can be,

It flies just the same.

Did a moth not come from the same place,

As a bird, or a butterfly with wings?

Muddy wings can fly and that is still more than I,

Though an angel with wings,

Could very well be the moths deep covered disguise,

As he flows by.

In urgency, the flaps, not resting or nimble,

An alarming message he bestows, but humbly...

Battering around with a sketchy sound,

He circles fast around.

What you think you can not do,

The bothered moth knows,

He then goes to the only light that glows.

His message is simple,

It is simple, just this.

"Turn your light on,

Stop living in the dark-

Nothing can be done when it's so dim,

There's nothing to see.

What you think you can not do,

You can though when it is bright.

Stop turning to the dark,

You can only be seen in the  light"

He begs,

"Please, leave my light on!

Or Come tomorrow, I will be gone.

The Milky Moth knows, much more than you,

As you angrily bat your arms at him-

By turning the lights on,

Your brightness will shine on.

Then everyone will see,

All the beauty in you- is in me.

What is lost will only be found

when the light burns bright.

The moth will leave, you'll see,

He won't be around too long,

So leave your light on,

Or your brightness too will be gone.