Living a Lie

woke up to nothingness
taste had no taste
found out reality wasn’t real
the life we’d been living
sharing together
supposed to be forever
just a lie, make believe
to avoid what you conceive
about me, an evil witch
money grubbing bitch
honey you’re just looking
in the mirror at me
seeing yourself
when you look at me
apparently you don’t read a thing
I’ve ever written
how I see this world
what disgusts me the most
with society, their greed
holding onto material things

now back to how you took
everything away from me
told me how you wanted to leave
all that was making you stay
afraid how I’d make you pay
you don’t even realize
what you’ve done to me
the fact that you fucked her
our first year, matrimony
tried to tell me I was crazy
when I asked you to own your shit
asked you for an apology
you never gave me one
so I buried the truth to move on
I wasn’t in a position to leave
sick, business went bankrupt
even worse my family
told me to stay and work it out

my own mother told me
needed to be a better wife
excuse me, mom, I was a good wife
he is nineteen years older than I
ego’s on high over drive
been living like this all his life
nothing to do with me you see
just because dad did it to you
and you never realized
it wasn’t about you
don’t tell me what to do
you stayed for twenty one years
then what did you do?
starts with a D and ends with an E
it’s exactly what I need
to earn back my self esteem


©May 19, 2010 – Tamara Nicholas

The Story Turned Poem...

You must access this piece by clicking on the title which is a link to the piece.

Friday at St. Mary’s


so nice to be spunky
honestly it feels Funky
yeah, I’m a fan of funk
even happier off junk
and now I’m not a drunk
I’m living like a punk
Oreos are good to dunk
with a tall glass of milk
I really like imported silk
how it feels upon my skin
these men have nice grins
when they’re not showing teeth
poised, positioned, ready to bite
and as it turns out tonight
is more than just Friday night
I’d like to shed some light
on words that start with “F”
I’ve never been scared of death
but sitting here at work
trying not to be a jerk
is much harder than you think
my situation really stinks
some of the staff are just dinks
while addicts make best friends
with junkies who have the bends
then everyone pretends
that none of it offends
when words don’t mean a thing
actions are what really sting
I offer up my wings
to see what life may bring
fly us all out of this mess
that keeps my people stressed
breathe deep, keep us blessed
the time is drawing near
need to hold each other dear
before we’re no longer here
without a push or a shove
light shines from up above
giving the gift of love
the best gift ever given
never done long as I’m living
creates joy while receiving
give this gift long as I’m breathing
you keep shopping, keep on spending
credit cards maxed, you’re pretending
working two jobs to keep paying
while you do you best keep praying
just remember all that you buy
stays right here and that’s no lie
the love you give is forever
goes after death with whoever
doesn’t break or come in sizes
can’t trade it in nor can you hide it
don’t cost a thing but your pride
spend it quickly friend don’t bide
don’t listen to ego cause it lies
hear that quiet whisper deep inside
who are we to have expectations
when it’s we who have aberrations
so back to the matter that's at hand
I’m done with taking my final stand
have you guys heard all I’ve said
do you all of you want me dead?
love all of you despite you anyway
I’m glad I’m here on this Friday
I know some of you want me to stay
some of you don’t like what I say
for that small portion of men
who don’t like where I’ve been
nor do they like where I’m going
I have one final thought for them
first I’d like them to know
I love those of them most of all
I’ll pray the hardest I can for them
bite my tongue harder even when
they’re acting disrespectful towards me
like the fools they have to be
because they haven’t learned a thing
makes my heart really burn and sting
I’ll shed a tear from time to time
read the obits page, look into my mind
remember faces of all the men
who have hated me now and then
because they were too full of pride
didn’t want to let go of the ride
substance abuse had its grip on them
look at what it did for them
their in the funny pages now
dead from their disease is how
they finally found their God
for me, that’s all a bit odd
I wonder what their face looked like
when they saw that big white light
felt the overwhelming love and warmth
when they didn’t just wake up to dark
tell me, who’s the crazy bitch now?
it doesn’t matter anyhow
if it mattered what people think to me
I wouldn’t say a fucking thing
I sure as hell wouldn’t be me
wouldn’t that be a crying shame?
cause life would never be the same
it would be some type of war game
and you'd be in the hall of fame

©May 7, 2010 – Tamara Nicholas

Sleeping Feathered Dreamland

sleeping feathered dreamland
peaceful somnolence breaks suddenly
slumber sickness, night terrors
turns upside down into chaos
go from floating to flying
to being flown in a chopper
without a back to the seat
nothing to brace, hold in place
as the helicopter becomes a train
going fast as lightning

I lie flat in the back
on top of the tracks
head bouncing and banging
I’m grabbing for something
to pull myself up, hold myself up
just as another train is coming
while my train is turning
it looks as if the oncoming
train will take my head off
two people seated in front of me
grab my arms pulling me up
just before the train coming
rolls over the track
where my head was

suddenly I’m back on campus
I’m in a nursing tent
like a M.A.S.H. unit
I don’t have any clothes on
ace bandages cover my
groin, breast, and buttocks
an Asian girl who’s the nurse
tells me to give her a urine sample
she leaves the cup on a table
cutting bandages away she tells me
she’ll get me something to wear
no one ever returns after hours of waiting
I step out of the tent bare naked

retrospectively I know
exposing myself
is nowhere near as traumatic
as going through what others
have put me through and
how others have betrayed my trust and
how following other’s guidance has
nearly cost me my life but it
wasn’t until I almost lost my life
that someone finally stepped up to help me
baring my naked body was and still is
the very least of my concerns…

©April 8, 2010 – Tamara Nicholas

The Deepest Scars that I Have

their actions or words
lash out wounding me
wounds heal leaving scars
some show on the surface
others stay deep inside
I still feel them sting
I don’t show a thing
keep a smile on my face
I hide the disgrace
my disgust, human race
keep moving, keep going
knowing what I’m knowing
these people who are showing
fake love and pretending
acting like they know me
I know they don’t know me
they just keep on showing
the same end to same story
it has many plots
keep on plotting rotten plots
without morals without values
they write tragic details
which I have to tend to
what if I don’t want to?
why don’t they clean up
their own fucking messes?
deal with their own issues
learn from their mistakes
develop some character
stop being a developer
of drama, an enabler
taking for granted the fact
that I’m holding back
not releasing my rage
ripping up all their pages
causing them to confront
that they’re not upfront
they’re not ethical at all
they don’t have the balls
don’t see what’s in front
of their beady shut eyes
try to hide their disguise
that sticks out, neon signs
like casinos on strip
how much more of this?
took a year to get pissed
hope they’re happy with this
but they’re oblivious
their head’s are up their ass
even though I’ve been crass
speaking out crying for help
all my email don’t count
they read and discount
interpret what I've said
as I’m sick in the head
makes me question their skill
they’re the ones who are ill
all the wounds that I have
that hurt me so bad
they can not be seen
they start to convene
truth must intervene
why do people demean
while they act so pristine
most scars that I wear
are there because I cared
some day I won’t dare
the marks make people stare

©April 5, 2010 – Tamara Nicholas

The Sun Shines Big and Bright

the sun shines big and bright
through my car’s window
drawing masses of people out
like herds of cattle flocking
to stacks of hay out in the field
people are swarming to places
to go spend, spend, spend
shopping places
places selling junk food,
fast food, and greasy food
this economy has them down and out
hopeless, in a waste land so barren
yet the herds of people are out
spending money that they don’t have
with the media reminding them they’re broke
some of them are coming out of Best Buy
buying things they don’t need
things they already have
things that they’ll replace
the sun is out but don’t be fooled
it’s still cold outside, you’re still broke
why are you spending money?
why?
a man comes to my window
asking for some spare change for the bus
I tell him “no”
why doesn’t he just tell me
he wants a drink or a fix?
honesty has evaporated from society’s values
just as the icebergs have evaporated from the planet
a person can deal with honesty
they know what to expect
no one can have expectations anymore
expectations will only lead to resentments
resentments will cause self destruction
can you imagine a world
where you can expect from others
exactly what you expect from yourself?
can you imagine a world
where everybody was honest
and told you exactly what they were thinking?
can you imagine a world
where telling someone what you were thinking
would not offend the other person?
where communication served its purpose
as it was designed to do
go back to spending your money
using it to replace things you already have
to hide from your feelings
to buy things that make you a better person
it’s all staying here when you go
wherever it is that you go
I’m sure the sun will be shining bright
maybe it will be warm as well
maybe you’ll feel better when you get there

©March 2010 – Tamara Nicholas

Quote of the Day

People may not remember exactly what you did or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel. -- Unknown

Raping our Youth's Innocence

I watched Bill Maher last night.  He had an excerpt about the Catholic church being back in the news again with the same old scandal regarding priests and altar boys.  This time it was occurring all around the world and not in the United States.  It seems that the molestation of altar boys has, in fact, gone global (or at least the reporting in the press has finally made the global market).  I had always known it wasn't just a US problem in my heart however.  What prompted me to write this story wasn't just the Catholics.  As luck would have it my husband was reading the Salt Lake Tribune this morning and he read aloud to me a snippet from an article about the cub/boy scouts.  It seems that there's still a problem with the scouts and molestation as well.  Ironic that the morning after Maher reports on the Catholics that the Mormons would be in the Tribune having paid a settlement for their part in a molestation scandal.

My question is quite simple.  How is it that these big religious organizations are allowed to get away with child molestation with nothing more than monitery penalization?  Why is it that the men involved with molesting our children haven't been brought to justice and aren't serving prison sentences?  Moreover, why aren't the sentences for child molestation more severe in the first place?  Does anyone have any idea how fucked up a child becomes after being molested?  Does anyone have any idea the irrepairable damage that is done to that child?  How that child is much more likely to abuse drugs than a child who is not abused.  How that child is much more likely to, in turn, abuse another child as an adult because of that abuse.  How, if that child does become chemically dependant, that child could break many other laws ranging from theft to murder.

Does anyone stop to look at the horror that these children live in day to day after they've been assaulted?  I'm talking about daily terror.  Terrified that you'll be attacked from out of nowhere.  I'm talking about playing at your friend's house across the street from where you live as a six to eight year old boy or girl until it becomes a bit dark outside in the summer-time.  Then you go to your friend's door to leave.  You open the door a bit to peak outside.  Checking to see if there's anyone out there.  You dart out the door and run as fast as you can all the way home (which is just across the street).  You open your door as fast as you can so you can get inside your house as fast as you can where it's safe.  Where you're safe.  You're panting.  Breathing very hard and fast but you're home and you're safe.  No one got to you.  No one put there hands on you again.  No one did anything to you that you didn't want them to do.  No one took from you your innocence again.  No one.  No one.  No one.  You're okay. 

This is your life each day until you find alcohol or drugs that take you away from that horror and lead you down a new path of horror.  Do you know how I know?  Because I was abused at four years old by the baby-sitter's 17 year old son repeatedly.  That was my story I just told.  My son was, also, abused at the age of five and at the age of seven by two separate children.  His day to day terror has been going on off and on for a while now.  Just recently it started again with tales of a "white van" going around our town taking children.  He lives in fear every day that this white van is going to take him and do horrible things to him.  He is scared to walk to and from school now.  I feel terrible for him because I know his terror.

The cycle of abuse has got to stop somewhere.  It's never going to stop until sentences are increased and increased a lot.  It's never going to stop until these religious organizations are held accountable like the ordinary population.  We need to take a stand people.  We need to let our government know that our children are more important than money.  Do you all know that sexual preditors are the one offenders that can not be rehabilitated?  I'm serious.  I'm not saying it because I was a victim.  I'm saying it because I hold a degree in social work and human behavior.  When studying human behavior we learned that people with addictions to substance can change (though the percentage of people who maintain sobriety for the rest of their life is only about 7%).  However, people who are sexual preditors do not change.  They may have periods of abstinence but they do not ever change.  Do your own research if you do not believe me.  That means they need life sentences or very long sentences with life-time paroles afterward.  Some micro-management to really watch them to make certain they are not connecting with any children and not doing any harm to anyone.

Thanks for hearing my opinion on this.  Please, whether you agree or disagree with me about this subject, feel free to post your opinion as well.

Fork Tongued Liars - Act MCC—We’re fighting Al Qaeda turns to What does “Tea-bagger” really mean?

G.W. was obsessed,
dressed to impress
upon our minds
but the simpletons
were the only ones too blind
to face the facts
behind the attacks
upon the nine
and the eleven
while he claimed heaven
sent him to set things straight
motivated by hate
he said Al Qaeda’s behind this
there wasn’t any debate
sent thousands of troops after
I heard his idiotic laughter
saw his delusional disaster
knowing he was twisting truth
manipulating words
while pronouncing them wrong
with red-necks singing along
to his bull-shit tune of turd
he sounded beyond absurd
not even the press
who asked him questions
could have cared less
for his alliterations
made no sense - nonsense
designed his entire defense
The War on Terror
he became the furor
so I became the stirrer
of a big, black kettle
yeah, it was Heavy Metal
like clapping thunder
I took the blunder
formed from liars
also known as republicans
The New World Order
was erasing our border
this capitalist system
protected by him
he’s one of them
look at your American dollar
then scream and holler
bring this secret society
out for the world to see
I’m not talking shit
won’t play any part in it
don’t (anyone) start to trip
because I didn’t flip

I shine too bright for this
still it gets me pissed
I want it to stop
before more bodies drop
that’s just the top
of a sickening list
civil rights and liberties
I’ve grown to miss
privacy agreements
they want me to sign
in medical offices
as if I were blind
as to what I would agree
to have taken from me
given for national security
clinical and personal information
they’re for capital punishment
but against abortion
by their own distortion
our confidentiality is dead
so they can move ahead
incriminating what they’ve read
who’s the one who said
life’s not fair
now cut your hair
then shave your head
go over-seas to shed
your blood, though it’s still red
whether here or there
remember life’s not fair
how much more can I bear
I know ethics are rare
especially in politics
what can we really expect
from raving lunatics
who will never respect
our right to privacy
they want to see what they want to see
but they’ll never see me
sign a fucking document
like a human experiment
giving them keys to my head
keys to my home
liberty to roam and roam
providing evidence
at my own expense
to prove I’m a terrorist
though at the very best
I’m humanity’s activist
with a lemon twist
so sour to devour
taking all their power
absorbing it like dry dirt
I hope they all hurt
by me speaking my truth
even though it’s uncouth

another thing that’s sad
it makes me so mad
it’s something so bad
something I wish we never had
the fact that they’re racist
because they insist
our new president "who’s black"
is at best a closet socialist
as they show up to town halls
with a whole lot of balls
packing heat on their hips
shouting from thin lips
about health care reform
bringing hatred with a storm
not realizing they’re the norm
who would benefit from change
they’re all so deranged
the VA and Medicare
neither make them stop to stare
crying out socialized medicine
that would take thinking for them
I imagine them thinking, brain-storming
with hatred just pouring
Obama’s not even American
what the fuck’s wrong with them?
I guess Hawaii’s not a state
because it was purchased real estate
we didn’t kill off the natives
we didn’t call them savages
neither were the Eskimos
it’s quite funny they don’t know
the innuendo of tea-bagger
within the context of pros or prose
some things they don’t get
like the true meaning of freedom
because they’re all too damn dumb
things like choice, civil and equal rights
you know, the cause of our original fight
against a king and form of government
how many lives were spent?
G.W. destroyed it in eight years
they should all be shedding tears
instead they hold picket signs
showing just how blind
how ignorant they are
they should all get a star
for being such schmucks
for making this country suck
they are biting their tongues
they should all eat their young
for having to hold themselves back
because our president is black
they want to shout the “N” word
even though that’s been heard
they won’t let it out in that way
they play “tippy-toe” today
where did their balls go?
were they just there for show?

©February 2010 – Tamara Nicholas

Memories of Cornbread

feels as if bugs are crawling all over
itching, irritated, ripping holes into tanned skin
scratching all over, every inch, my body
hoping to kill them or alleviate nerves shocking
vile and hateful, my mouth, cursing at “the professionals”
they ask me dumb questions prolonging agony
broken teeth, dental work, cavities, really?
asking me such questions so inapplicable
demanding to skip the bull shit just dose me
get into a comfortable bed, wait for the effects
I want a hot shower to sooth cramping muscles
cramping stomach, intestines
stabbing my insides like I swallowed an ice-pick
(a bullet would be quicker, less expensive, more relief)
it’s finally over in six days, yes, I’ve found freedom
not shallow freedom our forefathers desired
free from myself, the hell I created, uncertain
maybe it created me and I flourished in it
thought I had angel’s wings
thought so many stupid things
some were real, none of them matter
they led me to “right now” where I need drugs
drugs to stop the sickness, the pain
mental obsessions, emotionally bankrupt
cliché as it sounds, as it is, it’s what is
cliché is my life founded on fake memories
things like hope, serenity, and forgiveness
memories that crumbled like poorly baked cornbread
now I’m corn-fed and I feel human again

©February 2010 – Tamara Nicholas