So you want to be a writer? Why yes after many years of keeping a journal. I wanted to be a writer because I call it clearing the masses of missed intercommunicated thoughts.
Liar. Liar. Liar.
Okay, the truth is I came back to writing after three children, piles and piles of clothes and dishes. Nothing to prove but I needed to write myself in.
When I looked in the mirror I saw on paper a woman who’d gone to school but – “little ole Krissy became miss molly maid after all”- after few years of work, it seemed the rat race wasn’t worth the merry go round, no amount of money could satisfy the dreamer.
Who is she? She’s an idealist, who loves to laugh really loud, and writes poetry.
If poetry could save the world or carry a consciousness to save our souls then we wouldn’t be a dying culture lost in the perversion of wanting to taste a deathless death in the name of religion. Or be so cold that, we couldn’t all be human beings wanting progress for all.
So, for now, I leave you with a poem in which I wrote about change.
What happened to “get up you mighty race”?
You and this world would choose to be upward-mobile people, our
purpose to live didn’t start at the end of a dark street or the end of a gun.
I’ve heard what sounds like trying, like two drummers without ears, off kilter
chasing dreamers of dreams beating the blood of our veins
but suddenly a new sound should crush the blows yesteryear’s-
in the skin of change.~Krissy