Untie my heart and go find I am not looking anymore I am playing for the summer Back to work in the fall but my heart is untied and has escaped control. It might be wild or quiet or silly or angry. It might like this today and that tomorrow. It might wail with sorrow and then laugh and laugh.
Heart untied and
Gone.
The white furry object is not a tie. It is a Barbie stole made of rabbit fur and lined with pink fabric. Both cats are enjoying carrying it around the house and shaking it and pretending that it is a live rabbit. That stole has to be nearly 50 years old, so I am letting the cats choose it as a toy. Good that I have great ancient cat toys.
I am a toothsome devil, young, muscular, handsome. I am sixteen pounds of muscle, a tiger cat, ISO of wonderful lady. DON’T get confused by my sister in the photograph. She likes to lean on me sometimes, especially when Mother is gone. Mother has been home, thank goodness. She goes out in the nasty car, but comes back by nighttime. It has been hot this week. She slept in the basement bed one night. My sister and I were a bit worried, it was different and confusing, but she apparently doesn’t have our heat tolerance. We loll in the upstairs when we want the heat.
Contact me, babes. I am in my prime and want to meet the lady cats.
Always, perfect, us, and forever A part of me stands back wondering why I want to believe but cannot almost ever He tells these formidable obvious lies Like my sister you build a story You are the star and say you never lie I blink in wonder at your false silly glory You build a castle of lies while I wonder why I’d like to believe we’ll always be friends A part of me wants security, foolish hope I give it 50/50, unsurprised when it ends I think you should wash your mouth out with soap The best liars adore and believe their own words And it takes years for the real truth to be heard
I never thought I would be famous. I never thought I’d be a zombie either, but a famous zombie? In demand for murals?
When the zombie illness first hit, hundreds of years ago, we were hunted nearly to extinction. The discrimination was terrible and we were killed in heartless horrific ways. We hid and never ever spoke to humans. We often starved. And the movies that depicted us! We were never saying “Brains!” We were saying “Pains!” And get over the idea that we want to bite you! We don’t. It just hurts so much when we are hidden in the deserts and can’t get food, that we bite in despair. After all, our neurological fine motor skills only work when we are fed. Not with brains but with color! Color, crayons, paints, pencils, glorious and exquisite color.
Doesn’t this pain you too?
Browns and greys and tans and muds. The blue sky helps a little and the yellow of the sign, but any zombie suffers horrifically in this sort of environment. Parts of us start falling off! You think we are rotting, but you humans are wrong so often. You think you know everything.
But we finally managed to communicate! Someone threw their paint cans at us, a graffiti artist, and we were off. He was a mere amateur with color. No one can color like a zombie! The humans are jealous and beg us to teach them. A few have even begged to become zombies, so that they can see color the way we do. No way. We aren’t stupid enough to do that. You’ll just have to keep paying us to paint the beauty that feeds us and that you long for now too!
I am so proud of my art and proud that we zombies have been freed and at last are welcomed by humans.
I achieved an item from my bucket list today! My first prey!
I am in the cat cage in the wild outside. Mother opens the window some days. It has been cold and wet, but I go out anyhow. This time I see movement. I freeze and slowly stalk it. My hunt is successful and I make my catch. I squeeze through the door and carry it to the kitchen.
I put it down. I hope it will run, but it is slow. Still alive, though. Mother notices and admires it. I would let her eat it. She doesnβt take it.
Mother is proud, too. I hear her tell the phone βElwha caught his first worm!β
I taste the worm but I am not that hungry. I left it but it was gone later. Maybe mother got hungry after all.
I visited an old friend in Europe last March. I talked about the Olympic Peninsula and he was impressed with the cougars and orcas and bears. “We don’t have any large predators here.” Well, only humans.
They used to, though. This is from a local museum: a bear skeleton from about 7000 BC from the country. A very big bear fossil. There were other fossil predators including a wolf like creature.
So this is the succession where he lives: humans living after the bears.
Taken on Marrowstone Island earlier this week. I was so busy watching this eagle that I tripped over a rock and face planted. If I’d hit a rock I would have lost teeth or knocked myself out. Luckily both I and the camera did fine.
I tend to spot the eagles in the trees by sound. I do watch for them as well. This one called to another, who circled towards the tree. Sound locates them.
Logs? No logs here. I came in on the waves and people seem to enjoy my company. I do enjoy responding to people, but when it’s time I will leave on the waves as well.
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
KO Rural Mad As Hell Blog 
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