Narcissists And Mirrors

Who wrote the line reflecting that people with lots of mirrors in their living spaces are narcissists?

They’re wrong.

Mirrors create the illusion of space. Thus a small living space looks larger with mirrors. I know. I do it.

Russians historically created the illusion of space in their interior designs by the use of mirrors. It was in Russia (then the Soviet Union) that I learned it.

I want to return to Russia before I die. Moscow and St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad).

I never did see the evil in Vladimir Lenin that the world saw. I suppose living in a world where the elite dictated to the populace, it was only natural that when it became time for the social order to reform, that the working class rise to accept those challenges.






DRAIN THE MATTER

Imagine the beauty in Blacks saying ALL LIVES MATTER. And meaning it. Without a qualifier or disclaimer.

They can’t do that. They don’t see anything in it for them.

They don’t share by nature.

People don’t want PITY. They want RESPECT. If you have to earn it, you’ll never get it. Who’s Lording over whom now? Strings. It’s always about the strings.

Your eyes are your greatest asset. Why so negative? Try sweet. Try kind. Try soft. Stop exaggerating everything you think, say and do.

Ditch the anger look. Ditch the ‘I’m going to blow your fuckin’ head off’ look. Nobody needs nor wants to know how angry you are inside. Everybody’s angry. You’re no different.

I’ve lived in the same building with Black Africans for eleven years. I say hello and chat to everyone. If I don’t say hello first, they won’t take the initiative. Eleven years I’ve been doing it.

I’m tired of the silly arrogant game. If I’m talking to a Black person and another Black person walks up, the one I was talking to all of a sudden steps back as if they don’t know me – this was years before coronavirus and self-distancing. I’m tired of that too. I’m tired of no effort from them and me doing all the work of it.

If I go to the mailroom and all Blacks are standing waiting for their mail, they’ll look everywhere but at me. I talk to all of them individually, but when they’re in a group, they clam up and shut down, except to talk to each other. It’s some kind of unwritten rule.

Everybody wants to be a master.

One time I was talking to my husband when we got off the elevator and a Black woman I always speak to got up in my face with her evil eye and rigid body saying ‘what’s the matter, you too good to say hello’. I was shocked out of my attention on my husband. I hadn’t even seen her yet. I can still see that evil eye.

I’m fed up with all the rules they have that change like the wind. It’s as if someone is directing them on how to treat white peoples in any given week.

I’m tired of the drain.

I’ve contributed way too much of my life concerned about black people and all their issues and needs. It never ends. When do they think of anybody but themselves?

I’m ready to move to a different game. This one has gotten old and tedious. Nothing has and nothing will come of it.

I feel like a hostage, being pushed around from one black person to another, silently, like some strange universal force dictates it.

It’s too weird for me.






GOD IN MY SLEEP

Yes, yes. My own God murdered me in my sleep.

To give me a face to face with the Big God.

What happened?

Well, I asked for it – the meet. I saw that the Big God was afraid of consequences and I wanted to talk and comfort at once.

I stated my case – succinctly. What I needed in troops of thought and a delivery system.

The Big God said, Sharon, Rose, you already have both and much more to come. Rest.

I said, what? rest??

Rose then said, we’ve got it all covered Ma.

That’s when I knew the Rose who stayed behind, refusing the Big God’s offer to rise, did indeed rise.

So happy, I was.

Hey Ma, Daisy winded for you tonight over the Lake.

Yeah, your gang is all here in Cleveland and they brought more than you asked.

When Steve woke me up in the morning before going to work he kissed me good-bye and said, the kids are all home!

YESSSS!!




A Mystery Title

Cancel my plane.

I’ve been murdered.

I’m not here.

I’ll be happy to come home with you.

Take over.

Look at you.

Do it.




Surface To Air

She quit.

You got me.

The irony.

It’s beautiful.




CHINA TWIG

You break like a brittle twig

because you lack life

because you take life

instead of give life.

Chinese broken.

Chinese break easy.

Chinese selfish – must control every detail from destruction to death.

Chinese have no God, so devil enters easy.

Fry a dog. Chew a leg, break the panda’s back. Jump up and down. Eat your baby’s foot. All for no luck.

Disgust rages black and yellow sting bees behind the back of the mirror locked to roses falling like frozen rain jackets smeared with molten blood to throw the devil baby soldiers so I can see the moving targets.

Wrapping them in blankets won’t keep them still – so you must do the kill – all for evil, while evil laughs at your arrogance and pities your rich black and yellow slaves wanting more.

I killed my first soldier tonight sent to kill me.

I feel free, not liberated – not yet – there will be others.

At least now I know I can do it – without hesitation – with ease actually.

One move over the line – and any hope for negotiation was gone.

I moved swiftly with only one person, with only one purpose – to kill my assassin.

Three came – 2 walked away. Three leather jackets – black hair, the gold shining on their M.E. skins shined dull as they were neutralized.

Two pandas to go. Extra sauce please.

No. I want them alive in cages.






What Were The Wiseguys Really Doing?

 

God directed him to the stables where the animals were waiting, while still in his mother’s belly.

If God controlled everything, then God could have made way at the Inn. But God didn’t according to legend.

Most people aren’t all that religious. They’re part of a community where there’s safety in numbers – everybody knows who you are even if they don’t know you personally.

So what was the significance of Jesus being born among the animals in the stables?

Come on, Jesus, the most powerful influence over humans on the planet for over two thousand years already, not rich even or powerfully connected, and there’s no significance beyond it just happened that way? No plan you mean?

There must be a significance, other than the obvious ‘no rooms left for vagrants’ or maybe they had money. What were they? On the lam? From what? Running from those who would stone a pregnant woman with no husband? And what would those authorities do to those who housed such people? I don’t know. I didn’t live back then. This is now.

The animals are my mission – to help raise and complete that which was purposely lost over time – since Jesus’ people left them out of their book based on their perceived lack of worthiness.

Now that’s a glaring prejudice toward all beings who God supposedly created, then optically paired in a manger scene with God’s supposed only human son as obviously worthy of something other than torture and slaughter.

Well, the books say God’s only son, which means God had more than one daughter, maybe half the human race.

Going back, it seems also according to legend, that a star shined bright in the sky, making way for three wise men (no women here; sounds like a union) whose purpose it was to give gifts to the newborn.

Any room in the Inn for the wiseguys? Well, you can do as the Jews do and accept without questioning the facts or motives of God.

Now there’s a dictatorship that needs undoing – especially when a religion is based in part on the consumption of God’s greatest creations being eaten alive and expelled down the shitter as a sign of respecting whom?

The Christians who more than any religion speak of a morality above all others have of course Jesus as their figurehead and money motivating tool to separate the rich from the poor. Another glaring prejudice.

The other animals don’t much matter in their lives, except to exploit for the purpose of attaining wealth.

What did you do, make a deal with your devil to separate yourselves from all other animals and make yourselves their God? Their Keeper?

God made you in God’s image? Not in the image of any other animal? In whose image did God make all the other animals?
The devil?

So the animals in the stable were put there by your design, and the three wiseguys stayed in the Inn after the Innkeeper denied a pregnant woman a room?

Those wiseguys were so generous that they refused to give up their room for her? But brought her gifts and displayed them in front of all the other animals?

It doesn’t matter who stayed in the Inn. Jesus was born among the other animals and that’s where the star led the wiseguys – to the stables.

Or maybe the star led them to the Inn. When they arrived there was no room for any wiseguys wanting to barter, so they were also directed to the stables for shelter from the brewing sand storm.

What is the significance of all that?

One animal kingdom under God? And in that kingdom humans shall reign supreme?

We’ve got some prejudicial issues here. The wiseguys were humans too.

Maybe it’s humans with money reign supreme, unless they anger other humans with money, then they go to jail.

No room in the inn for non-paying customers, pregnant, bearing gifts or not.

Whichever way you slant it, Jesus was born among the animals and Christians decided to omit them except for a cameo appearance in their stories, since they wanted to exploit them for profit.

Jesus isn’t here; he can’t stop us.






Be There

Walk out of your own dark.

Don’t let your shoulder hunch give the light away to someone else.

Be there when it comes for you.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight






 

Rock A Bye Baby

Gray waves black as thunder–white caps foaming peaks of violet snow–crash through transparent rainbows dancing on violent waters sucking tremulous defiant skies kneeward toward the ocean floor. Rocking cradles of transformation–birthing (as if it were easy) new and strange worlds from tainted boulders, that live. Yes, rocks are alive. As hosts. To bear life. How wonderful. So I was right, God exists in all life and non-life. Wow. First I think it, then I say it, then I write it, and then God proves it. Random or predestined? Obviously predestined, since it needs a host. Ha. Let’s rock this baby to sleep, before she figures out who it really is.

from pww






 

A Rose For You

Rose petals brush soothingly across my brow. Their velvet touch is not lost on my old leathered skin.

Bold lightness, abundantly, judiciously, gingerly, playfully, discriminately, rushing lavishly between fragile threads layering woven webs of pink silken molecules of thought, dissipating into disintegrating balloons of wonder anticipating exploration.

I think I made it. I know I made it.

If I can, I know you can.

apftp






 

Massage My Guilt And I’ll Massage Yours

Discrimination is discrimination. It doesn’t matter who you discriminate against or for what reason. It is what it is.

We’re all killers. All humans are killers. We discriminate against all other species – including our own. That’s how bad we are. We enslave, torture and slaughter all other species, including our own. That is bad – Not bad-ass.

Yet, we pass judgment on everybody and everything else. Because we think we’re better, we’re superior to all other creatures including all other humans.

God made us that way is our excuse. Everybody else does it is our excuse when the first one doesn’t satisfy. Hey, they let us do it. They didn’t fight back – another lame excuse.

Somehow it sounds less offensive to say we’re all sinners, we’re all in the same insanity boat – made by God by the way – than to call ourselves what we are – killers.

Massaging our guilt does not allow for change of the offensive behavior. It actually perpetuates it.

Oh-h-h massage my guilt. That feels so-o-o-o good.

Now massage mine, okay?? Okay???

Are YOU sleeping?

I’ll massage your guilt tomorrow….

Promise? PROMISE.

okay….






 

Using The Order Of Words To Unite

What brings a country together is about what you put first – the land that you fled or were taken from, or the land that welcomed you, or abused you, or the one that you hide in because nobody wants you here illegally or legally?

Since we all are already here, why not put this land called America first instead of putting first the nostalgia of a land that – now – you don’t really want to return to – except to visit?

I’m American Lithuanian. I’m American Canadian. I’m American British. I’m American Scottish. I’m American Welsh. I’m American Irish. I’m American Dutch. I’m American Native. I’m American Russian. I’m American Egyptian. I’m American Arab. I’m American Jew.

I’m French Canadian if I live in France. I’m Canadian French if I live in Canada. I’m Lithuanian Jew. I’m Canadian Native.

I’m American Spanish. I’m American Chinese. I’m American Norwegian. I’m American Finnish. I’m American Samoan. I’m American Palestinian. I’m American African. I’m American Italian. I’m American Australian. I’m American Latino. I’m American Hispanic. I’m American Brazilian. I’m American Viet Namese. I’m American Israeli. I’m American Lebanese. I’m American Iranian. I’m American Indian. I’m American Ukranian. I’m American Angolan. I’m American Malaysian.

I’m American Swedish. I’m American Asian. I’m American German. I’m American Albanian. I’m American Libyan. I’m American Sudanese. I’m American Somalian. I’m American Korean. I’m American Chadan. I’m American Serbian. I’m American Pakistani. I’m American Algerian. I’m American Filipino. I’m American Danish. I’m American Jordanian. I’m American Japanese. I’m American Moroccan. I’m American Myanmese. I’m American Bolivian.  I’m American Ethiopian. I’m American Mexican.

And on and on…

Living in America is what unites us. So why not be American first? Saying that I’m Lithuanian American makes it sound like I belong in Lithuania.

You being South African and me being Austrian doesn’t unite us. What unites us then, is that we’re both human. But since each group has difficulty recognizing the humanity in other groups, it’s best that you unite yourself with the people in whichever country or territory or region that you live. At least then, you have a sense of belonging – and all humans crave that sense of security that belonging to a group gives.

Citizenship should not be required to call yourself an American so long as you live in America.

Work from that premise and see how it goes.






 

 

HYPOCRISY

I can’t see it. Where is it? Like atoms, and molecules and atomules: everywhere. And it’s killing us, silently, beneath the guise of protection, as we turn on ourselves by turning on each other–a suicide–a homicide–silent dreams, that nobody hears, nor wants to–until now. Happy dreams and sweet dreams will not be forced on anyone. We will no longer use as an excuse, “but they didn’t respect us or give us the same courtesy”. The teacher, the real teacher, will return in all of us, not as a lesson to be learned, but as a hand to be held.






 

NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE ENEMY

The universe knows the secrets though, of sinister plans of the past to dim the shining light of the first born of every bright star. Now, and only out of desperation do they sing a new, loud and bawdy tune reminiscent of past atrocities exposed by the melody of corruption. Yes, the universe knows the plans to end that which never began. Or did it? And only now are we seeing the fruits of our seeds sown? But, which seeds? And, can we see and think clearly enough, with calm and foresight through the darkness–resisting the fear, moving with caution and confidence, while wading through the confusion in order to cultivate the flowers rather than the weeds? Who will protect the dim lights, reticent to shine too brightly, concerned that peaking too soon will snuff out the seeds the universe plants for the survival of the planet? A Daisy Mae flower blooms in October. A rose of Sharon smiles back. You’re safe–in a harbor alongside the seeds of the plan. The world chose you–and did so–correctly.






 

THE EYE OF THE STORM

The mind is most powerful when it’s stubborn. The resistance of the mind is like super glue–one drop holds a yacht, keeps a mountain from moving, stops the sea from separating, and creates a frustration so intense in a person witnessing it in another, that it can cause heart attacks, strokes, cancer and who knows what else.

Stubbornness isn’t even like cancer; it’s worse. Cancer you can deal with; a stubborn person you can’t. There is no amount of reason one can use, no amount of persuasion, no sum of money or pile of gold, to move a stubborn person who says no to change their mind to say yes.

And stubbornness abounds–with more than enough to go around–in all sectors of life, within all groups, cultures and nations. Can anything good be said of stubbornness? No. The ominous cloud of stubbornness has no silver lining. It’s a formidable tool, a weapon as cold and hard-hitting as the atomic bomb. It destroys lives, families, businesses, cultures, countries. It can turn an entire planet upside down. But it rarely destroys the person whom it houses. It is therefore a great protector. The stubborn person lives in the eye of the storm. No matter where they go, they take their storms with them–mowing down everything and everybody in their paths, while they stay secure.

Stubbornness is an addiction, like any other, but unlike any other, in that it has yet to be recognized as one. Once a person uses it to get what they want, the thrill of success, perverse as it is, makes it nearly impossible to stop. Stubbornness requires no skill. It’s as easy as eating pie. That’s the allure. It’s easy–too easy–for those who don’t give an owl’s hoot for anything or anyone but themselves. It feels good and it works. It gives control where there otherwise would be none, because the stubborn person has yet to develop the skills necessary to make changes. In fact, they don’t like change.

Can a stubborn person become not stubborn? Sure they can, but they won’t. Fear keeps them from it–fear of the unknown, fear of losing their power, fear of losing control, fear of life, fear of living that life, fear of themselves. There are no mirrors where they live, no reflections. They can’t reflect, because they can’t interact. They live in isolation, fearing the world–a painful, hollow, meaningless existence.

Is there hope for the stubborn among us? Sure there is. All it takes is a little courage to step out beyond the safety of the eye of the storm in which they live, and feel the havoc they’ve created, accept responsibility for the ruin they’ve inflicted, and then say yes–to life, to living, to giving, to sharing, to learning.

It’s not unlike the courage needed by the people pleaser who fears rebuke to say no.






 

A DREAM DAWNING

Winding staircases around dreams of moons and star gazers gone to sleep beneath a starless sky, hoping that sleep itself might turn a blanket into a jewel studded universal wonder, that we all hope someday will wind it’s way around our lives making us for once the center of something other than somebody else’s rainbow.

When alas, we are both struck and awed by the blanket dropping to reveal nothing more than grains of sand glittering between the wool just pulled down over our eyes.

Did we really make it unscathed? Is this a dream of the morning? Or is it the dawn everybody dreams of?






 

4:44


Next Stop


Arrival Time


Twenty-nine Palms


Italy


Yuma


ANTICIPATION

Eyelids drop in anticipation of sleep, knowing tomorrow will make the rest of our lives different but okay. Dissatisfied with today, hopeful for tomorrow and the promises we’ve made to make the future better, as if waking magically creates the possibility, thus the certainty that it will happen.

A new day really is a new start. It doesn’t matter that we awaken to the same condition, the same situation, in the same place. The perception of it changes–always.

Always–as if night time and the dreams in space between sleeping and waking alters forever who we are. One night, every night, brings with it the undeniable knowledge of that pleasure. 

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

from wutp

DANCE

It is the song that determines the dance, not the other way around.

The dance never comes before the song, whether in your mind, your body, the universe of you, or a sound that you hear or a sight that you see or a presence in your soul that you feel.

The sound of your soul, mind, body, environment propels you to dance the sound — with or without ears, with or without sight, with or without limbs, with or without money or other resources, because at some point in your existence you realize that the only actual, dependable resource you possess is not your family, friends, associates, religion, affiliations, job or successes.

Your only resource, actual and dependable, is you.

Dance to that song.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

GETTING READY TO SPLIT A SPIRIT

I wonder if you can split a spirit like you can split an atom?  Whoa. Watch out world.

THIS IS JUST A TEST.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

I’M TIRED

I’m tired of helping your son, because you demand that I owe him, because the color of my skin is white.

I’m tired of helping your daughter, your wife, your sister, because you want somebody else to do what you have no interest in doing.

I’m tired of it all.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

THE SETTLERS

When you burn a child alive,

you make a global statement of hatred.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

EVERYBODY’S OUT

Everybody’s out.

I emptied hell, locked the door and threw away the key.

Nobody was guarding the gate.

Hell is now empty.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight

FOG

Lake Erie disappears when the fog rolls in.

Downtown Cleveland High Rise Skyline disappears too.

All the high rises succumb to the rolling fog.

Then it settles, waiting for its next instruction,

making you feel the comfort of a smaller world.

When it decides to recede, like the waves in the Great Lake it blankets,

leaving a clear and startling new view,

I am always uplifted by the process.

SLAUGHTERHOUSES ARE SECRET PLACES

Fences, electrical barbed wire, security cameras, men with guns, keep in the animals, and keep the rest of society from knowing what goes on inside these torture chambers. Don’t tell me a knock on the head is going to keep me from feeling the pain and terror of being dismembered alive.

Blood screams like gushing rivers, vocal cords stretch to choking capacity as the most vicious animal on earth, the human, enslaves, tortures and slaughters those they deem weak and inferior, as they claim their ‘Yahweh – and Allah – given’ dominion rights over all holocausts in exchange for the almighty shekel. It’s not much of a stretch to humans. It all must stop. Now.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight