Archive | June 2012

The silver cord…

The silver cord is breaking its tie with humanity


Souls lunge forward and grasp at unseen tethers


Clinging to the illusion of peaceful serenity


The gossamer thread snaps and severs


And all that is left is harsh cold dark




©Relinda R.


Ranting and Bitching While Wondering…


                                                                                             Photo from


     It just happened to me again. I was channel surfing, believing that I might find a suitable program to watch since I have about 200 channels. While continually tapping that little arrow on my remote, I wondered what happened to television during the last 30 years. It seems as though we gave up on sitcom escape and settled for ugly dramatic reality. Just as I was cursing the television for allowing so much rubbish on the air, I ran across a program titled, “Toddlers and Tiaras,” again. I am ashamed to admit that this is the second time this outlandish program caught my attention. I could feel my brain cells melting again as I watched. Why do I do these things to myself? It took months to recover the brain cells I lost last time I watched the show. While I question these mothers’ sanities, I also question my own for watching. In my defense, their stupidity mesmerized me.

     I just find it so ironic that people complain when little girls become obsessed with weight and looks, but we allow them to be judged like cattle. Some of these children are just babies and are subjected to massive amounts of makeup and told to “wiggle their butt.” Really? There was one little girl of about nine years or so wearing false teeth and dancing like a showgirl. She also displayed the attitude of a spoiled little brat. Not one of these girls demonstrated unique talent unless shaking your butt and pursing your lips counts as talent. Oh, I have heard the arguments about pageants being so crucial to a child’s health. Come on—that is bullshit. Teaching a child that looking pretty will determine his or her future is ridiculous. I actually see two possible outcomes. First, the child will believe that appearance determines success, welcoming a host of emotional disorders including Anorexia and depression. Second, while the child may adjust well to being displayed like a show animal; he or she may turn out to be a narcissist or worse—a sociopath.

     Yes, I am ranting. All children are beautiful. Teaching them otherwise is atrocious. Let us discuss the mothers on the show. The majority of them appear as though they have not missed any happy meals but they starve their children. Could this be an attempt to recapture some semblance of youth by living vicariously through their children? Apparently, winning Grand Supreme or something like that is very emotional. I remember my brothers showing cattle. The titles are similar—Supreme…Grand Supreme. Ladies—get a clue. Find a hobby, perhaps knitting, preferably anything other than putting your child on display like a show animal. Teach them that good morals and caring about others will pave their road to success. Whether they have won “Little Miss Grand Booty-Shaking Supreme” will have little, if any, impact on their future. 

     I know that some people may be horrified by learning that I object so vehemently to beauty pageants. If that is the case, I encourage you to watch this program. Once you see how utterly ridiculous it is, I think your opinion might change. These little girls will become young women soon enough; let them be children while they can. There is no need to parade them like cattle, teach them to show all their teeth in a fake smile and encourage them to “shake their booty.”  One cute little three-year-old became very emotional upon learning she won “Grand Supreme” or some other crap-title and threw a tantrum on stage. Her mother said, “Oh, she’s crying, but I know that she is just thrilled deep down.” Hmmm, really? Let’s evaluate. The little toddler was screaming, trying to rip some giant tin crown from her violently teased hair and throwing money on the floor. I failed to see that “thrill” her mother claimed.

     My favorite pageant mother’s defense is the claim—“Oh, she loves the attention and competition.” The children are CHILDREN, for God’s sake! They would love playing on a swing or in a sandbox! Be honest. The mommies (and even some daddies) love the attention and competition. I find it sad that they need a group of judges to validate their child’s beauty. If they fail to see their child’s beauty of innocence, then they are missing one of the most important experiences of life. Some of the things these insane mothers tell their children are disgusting. “If you don’t listen to mommy and shake your booty, you’re going to be a loser.” That is unacceptable. What would possess a mother to say such a thing to her child? What happens to these little girls when they lose? Will they become the next generation donning black trenchcoats and sporting sawed-off shotguns? I hope not.

     There—I am through bitching and ranting about the absurdity of beauty pageants. Wondering—I will never be through pondering the stupid things we do as we struggle to blend in with a constantly evolving society.

©2012 Relinda R.





I buried you on a dreary winter day.

It was cold and I remember freezing,

I am freezing still in a strange way.

I remember the song “Arms of an Angel” playing

as everyone lined up to see you and say goodbye.

I was praying that an angel was saying

That everything would be all right.

I remember a strange buzzing in my head

 as I picked out your favorite pair of Levis

 But I couldn’t hear what the angel said.

Because of the incessant buzzing in my head

And I could feel it vibrating in my heart.  

I remember requesting that your cap be on your head,

as it always was in life.

I remember the tears that slid down my face

as I took your hand and asked, “Is that better, honey?”

Those same tears still slide down my cheeks,

sometimes forming a pool around my heart.

I remember trying to smile at everyone

and make them feel at ease

while the sound of my heart breaking

deafened me.

That sound deafens me still.

The smile I wore as a mask

to hide my grief was made of iron will.

I wear that mask still.

I know you are not in pain

and I know that you are doing fine,

but I miss you terribly.

I know that I will never hear

the words “I love you”

again in this life,

but I continue on

doing what I must do.


People tell me how strong I am,

they do not know how I fall

to my knees when no one is looking.

I know that I will see you again,

But I always ask when…when.

I remember staring at the wooden box

you were in before it was lowered into

the ground and thinking how

it could not be real.

I was worried that you would be

so cold that night.

I was. I am cold still.

I know I promised you

that I would be fine and that you

should do what you had to do,

I lied. I never lied to you before,

but I had to so that you would stop

worrying about me. I am sorry that I lied.

I remember that cold day in December

when I said “see you later.”

It was the darkest and coldest day I ever knew.

I have not felt warmth or seen the sun since that month.

What did I do? Whatever did I do?

I miss you, my love. I miss you so very much.

When I buried you, I buried part of me too.

It is my wish that you are warm now and feel the sun.

It is my wish that you are no longer in pain.

It is my wish that one day… you will be standing in front of me

with open arms, saying “I love you.”

Only then, will I feel warmth once again.

©2012 Relinda R.

china doll

Imagechina doll

 she lie perfectly still Wondering what she did wrong

what Unforgivable sin could she have acted upon

to warrant this silent Suffering for so long

her tattered arms, half broken porcelain, half cloth

lie stretched from her sides as though staked that way

stuffing dared to peek from the torn threads

while Fragments Of porcelain motionlessly lay

upon the ground beneath her once beautiful head

Love and Adoration once filled her days

she wore the prettiest dresses and bows in her hair

which hung in such a beautiful way

framing a round smiling face so fair

now she was naked and ashamed in the dirt

one bow lay nearby, half-buried in the ground

she was Alone and frightened with a spirit so Hurt

a sweet sparrow’s tune was the only sound

the tune taunted her, reminding her Love was Gone

her lips, once pink and moist, faded now

baked in the sun, dry and pale as bone

tried to form a word, but the word Died out

Silence enveloped her and she tried to scream

but no sound could escape her little throat

she glimpsed a Memory of playing near a stream

as her mommy gathered her into her warm coat

a Tear glimmered upon her pale cheek

and she fell into a deep Eternal Sleep

©2012 Relinda R.


Cold Embraces

The end of another year is yet another painful reminder of the sorrow solitude carries. Visions of memories that could have been built glimmer as multi-faceted prisms within the mind. The shimmering beauty captivates the eye and the heart. Forlorn souls can only watch as the mesmerizing prisms fall and shatter into a million tiny slivers of lost hope. And at the stroke of midnight that heralds in a new year, while most are in the arms of love, the bereaved are in the arms of agony. The forlorn souls will sleep in the cold embrace of misery tonight and every night beyond.

© 2011 Relinda R.


The Book…Your Book…

Each moment of life is an eloquent word written in a paragraph. Those paragraphs are created from each day of experiences filled with laughter and tears. Each year, another chapter is complete. It is my wish that each of your pages contain laughter. It is my wish that you never have to wear a smile as armor. It is my wish that you never have to hurt alone. None of us knows how many chapters our book will hold, but it is my wish that as you write the concluding chapter of yours, you will smile and say, “I have loved with all my heart and I am truly loved for my heart.”

©2011 Relinda R.Image

The Enigmatic Ramblings of a Crazy Woman

     I think each of us goes through life searching for some sense of purpose. We mindlessly follow whatever the dominant paradigm of our generation preaches, whether it is “Stepford” mentality, independence or dispensationalism. We want to stand out as the generation that changed the world, when realistically, we usually follow along and blend. Along with the endless quest for answers to our existence, we search for love. Yes, love. Most of us long for love in some manner. I think solitude may lead to madness. Look at our world; we connect at the touch of a cell phone or click of a mouse. Look at all the available methods to chat and connect via social networking sites, even dating sites. I saw an advertisement for a “Farmer’s dating site.” Really, I did. Someone told me, “Farmers need love too.” I think that is one of the most true and hilarious insights I have ever heard. Farmers are people so why shouldn’t they seek love too. We gather in our cliques and chatter about things that may not matter to our great-grandchildren. Maybe they will get it right. Maybe mainstream bullshit will not sway them. Perhaps flying away to some great yonder will not consume their thoughts and they will concentrate on realizing we each evaluate our own experiences in this life.


     Perhaps it will be their children who realize that homosexuals are not a threat. I think one of the dumbest things I hear is that homosexual marriage is a threat to the institution of marriage. If two people in love threaten your marriage, then you have a lot more problems. It makes me sad when I hear all the rhetoric regarding homosexuals and how God condemns them. The God I know is more apt to be disappointed in the way everyone picks out biblical verse and twists it to suit his or her purpose. It is as though the part about not judging and loving thy neighbor is less important than the parts where we get to judge and condemn others. In addition, what of all the “chosen” religions. Are we so vain that we believe one religion reigns supreme over another? What if we all go to the same place, regardless of our religion, color or sexual preference. The point is—we do not know, not one of us, not even the crazy dude who yelled, “The end of the world is here.” Live and let live. It is a great concept.


     A sense of purpose and love are the two major goals of life. Why can’t we all just chill a little and accept that. The movie with that little Haley kid presented a good idea, pay it forward. Do something nice for someone else. Say something nice to a stranger. Hold the door for a stranger. Are those really such difficult concepts to comprehend? Are we so greed-driven and consumed with jealousy that we cannot even take the time to say “good job” or “how are you today?”  The world, our world is not going to change overnight, but let us hope it changes at some point. Let us hope everyone stops listening to people ranting about how we are all going to hell and instead begin listening to our own souls. I went to a church once and listened to the preacher tell a story about a man who had died. The deceased man’s wife asked the preacher to speak at her husband’s funeral service. The preacher began telling how this presented such a dilemma for him because he knew the man was going to hell. How could he, a man of God, say good things about a man who did not attend his church and would go to hell for it? I think my chin fell to the ground.  If there is a hell, I think that preacher will be serving drinks. I left.

©2012 Relinda R.