mothra’s day massacre

here’s a funny story
some years back
i noticed my ex
burying something
in the dumpster
knowing he never took out the trash
my curiosity was piqued
so i went
dumpster diving
for mother’s day…
turned out
his stalker girlfriend
had left a mother’s day bouquet
of tulips
on our doorstep for me
unlike all the weird little notes
& gifts she left for him,
he saw fit to throw the tulips
in the trash…
that might be
the only time
i got flowers for mother’s day….

okay…not funny “haha”…more like funny in a really really painful way.
mother’s day & i have a terrible track record.
with a husband who said on the first mother’s day after my giving birth to his son, “why would i get her anything; she’s not my mother?”
with a mother who didn’t seem to know the first thing about mothering…but who was always happy to complain, criticize, & be cruel….
with my own conflicted feelings on being a mom….
it’s a fucked up day for me.
yet…i caught myself buying a necklace for myself…i think it was supposed to be a surprise, for mother’s day. so maybe i am starting to heal?
maybe.
a celtic trinity knot necklace. a protection symbol. with green amber ( my favorite.)
it’s nice to know that i remembered to get me something nice for mother’s day.

the image is a card i sent to my little sister last year for mother’s day…it was the closest i could get to saying “happy mother’s day.”

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fuck it

i don’t own a smart phone
i can’t do “text speak”
i even use
correct punctuation
in every correspondence
spelling out
“okeydoke”
even though it takes five minutes
without a keyboard
on my phone.
also,
if you have sent me a dic pic
my phone won’t open
“big” files
so
that’s why i haven’t
texted you back.

i used to correspond with a guy who always pictured me as living in the 1800s because of my quirks & lifestyle.
ha! i found this in the shed out back where farm equipment goes to die. you bet your fucking ass i am mowing my multiple acres of lawn with it.
suck on that modern society.
RIP zero-turn mower.

i decided to skip the trip to iowa, saving money that would have been spent on gas & food for the trip. & to work on art commissions that will mean more income.
i know i will get out of this trap i have dug. i know i will.
just not today.

woe is me

living inside
your own head
you forget
about
the world outside
a world that works against
single low-income moms
a world
that won’t take a risk
on you
no matter
how good your heart
might be
a world that is set up
to grandstand your options
telling you to
follow your dreams
but in the end
leaves you
very few choices
the more kids
you have
the fewer
choices
they say it takes a village
they don’t tell you
that the village
will quickly tack up
a “no vacancy” sign
when they see
you
coming.

how’s the house hunt going?
well, pretty fucking hard since i can’t even get out to look for a place…& then when i look at the average application for a rental & they want a job & income & job history…
all i feel is despair.
i have savings. i have enough to pay a year’s rent. i have sparkly clean credit. i have child support payments. i have government aid. i spend less money–with four kids–than the average u.s. citizen without dependents does. i am frugal as fuck. but i have to get face to face with a real person–the right person–to convince them that this is enough…& being seemingly physically trapped here at hotel california…how the fuck do i make that happen?
i was going to try to run out to iowa today to look for rentals & someone to convince that i am a good tenant. the minions come home tomorrow….
despair says, “why even bother?”
but i can’t just run over to iowa with four kids in tow. iggy hates road trips (he got that from his dad–not me,) & i don’t want to budget in a stay at a motel (though they do love motel tv.)
so three weeks until the next time i am able to run to iowa sans minions…meanwhile, the lawn grows free now as the lawn mower died on me. so i should get that fixed. i don’t even know how to go about that. i so so so hate being all alone out here.
yes, i’m a feminist, but fuck me if i want to do everything myself. i want someone here who knows how to do all the stuff i suck at. i want someone in my life who appreciates what i can do & who i worship for their ability to fix a mower…or clean a toilet…or just hold me & tell me it’s all going to work out when it feels like the world is spinning out of control.
sigh.

if you want to contribute to my “income”…. here are sneak peaks of some of the posts you would be able to see as a patron of mine….

the main image is of a character of mine that hopefully will one day have a story….

letting go….

on screen ninja fights
zombies swords flash save the world…
meanwhile, life wasted

i’ve been spending my day sorting through files & files of stories. some are just a couple of words, an idea. some are complete & surprisingly well written stories. i have found that a lot of my stories have a similar voice. i am taking those snippets and adding them to a novel i am working on with the same voice.
threading it all together.
i am also posting some of them over on my patreon site & considering some for possible publication?
this haiku was in the middle of a file full of short stories/flash fiction i had written back in a time i used to submit to the site Helium all the time.

i am pretty sure it is about my ex-husband & my feelings about his video game addiction.
pretty sure.
& this was not the only written piece i found obsessing about my ex-husband & the wrongs he did to me.

which brings me to my tarot card reading for the beltane new moon. a lot of good stuff in this reading.
but the bad stuff…not letting go. the moon crossing me warns about it…so does the card in my “near future” position of the spread.
so i wonder. what is it that i am not letting go of? all i can think of is this anger i still have toward my ex-husband.
how do i let go?
i truly want to.

some time later…

okay, so! i was quietly obsessing about all the stuff i should be doing here at my mom’s house as squatter/care-taker, when i thought, “maybe that’s it…maybe i am stuck here–actually stuck at this place.” worrying about the lawn, the wet basement, and then reminding myself, “it’s not my goddamned property, monkey-boy!” (buckaroo banzai)…. my mom called me the other day about the basement & spent the entire call bitching about my sister who is trying her best to care for my mom. my mom said, “she was never my favorite.”
what the fuck, mom?
she also bitched about dad dying & leaving her to deal with this house & property that she wanted to sell years ago. i kind of agree that that was a shitty thing to do.
the next day, as i was attempting to meditate (meditation is surprisingly difficult for my loud brain to do,) my phone rang with “pure evil” coming up on the screen. so i kept on trying to meditate, but got a sick feeling in my stomach. my mom left a message, but before i could check the message, i checked my email where my sister (or brother-in-law as they share an email) emailed me to say, “don’t answer the phone!”
so i deleted the message from my mom without listening to it.

long story short, my mom doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me & i know damn well that i was never her favorite either.
she only calls me on occasion when no one else will listen to her.
so why am i stressing out trying to care for a place that is not mine for a woman who can’t stand me?
i am free to leave.
but it’s not easy leaving a place where i don’t have to worry about rent & utilities & keeping a roof over my four minions’ heads….
have i sold my soul for a free place to live? it kind of feels that way.
it kind of feels like that scene in labyrinth where sarah is in her “bedroom” & has forgotten her quest because she is surrounded by superficially comforting “things.”
or, as i wrote a couple days ago, it feels like “hotel california.”
i have often compared this experience to the shining as well….
and there in my tarot spread, you can see. i am stuck in “opposition” while change is my conflict card.

change should not be a conflict for me. i love change.

so i have chosen a third town as a possible new home. i was going to road trip there tomorrow, but the forecast calls for storms & rain today & the two days after.
i am stuck.
the basement might flood again if i am not here.
but how long can this go on?
i tried to mow the lawn today, and the mower died. am i going to hire someone to repair it? or someone to mow these acres of grass?
or am i just going to walk away?

i want to just walk away.
i really truly do.
so why do i feel so stuck?

gender bending

my first boyfriend
wore face powder
& lip gloss
(i still remember
the smell of kissing him)
his hair
was longer than mine
but once i shaved
off all
my hair
every one of my boys
had hair
longer than mine
because i so loved
the girly boys
with their long
slender
fingers
& their long
batting
eyelashes
every once in awhile
i dated
a chiseled-chin
dimpled cheeks covered
in manly stubble
all the more fun
to dress
them in
lacy lingerie.

this poem was inspired by a completely harmless innocent tiny little crush on my gender fluid editor-to-be…because i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t develop inappropriately intimate feelings for someone i am to be working with….

meanwhile, the ryan renolds movie marathon continues. (i watched the nines last night & loved it. i am pretty sure i am also a nine & that i have created y’all)
i bet ryan renolds would look hot as fuck dressed in “women’s” clothes….

in other news, i am having dizzy spells & my head feels weird…so i’m pretty sure i have a tumor. here is a conundrum…how does a hypochondriac know when they are actually sick? my anxiety manifests as physical symptoms…but what if i really am sick & just dismissing it as stress-induced?…(see how that can spin out fast?)

also, my lawn really really is supposed to be mowed by conventional standards, but i have a hard time thinking about mowing down all those innocent flowers.
if it weren’t for ticks & mosquitoes, i would totally have a wild as fuck lawn.

may the fourth be with you.

hotel california

the drone of the fans
in the basement
will hopefully help me sleep
’cause last night
i was awake
or fitfully sleeping
twisting & turning
as water
crept & dripped into my basement
gallons of water
absorbed into
powder
fucking
blue
carpet…
i used to call this place
bullfrog song
now i call it
hotel california
i just want to be
anywhere
but
here
but road trips detoured
by leaky
basements….

i was totally going to go to iowa & look for a place to live. however! water coming in through a wall dumping gallons onto the floor despite the floor drain just feet away….
this place is a fucking nightmare.
& my mom is pissed that my dad died first & left her to deal with it.
& i’m pissed that i got tricked into living here by siblings that wanted to live footloose & fancy free far away from familial home….
added to my list of things i never wanted to do alone: deal with a flooded basement.

i am brain dead.
all i can do is watch ryan renolds movies, drink beer, & wander to the basement on occasion to bail out this sinking ship….

fuck me.

mother grim

open a beer
or open a vein
whiskey shot to the head
or gunshot
you don’t know
you don’t know me
& how it feels
sometimes
to try
every day
to be a mother
to these ones
every day
every day
every
day
i make this decision
bag of wine
or bag over the head?
relish these years
when they are little
they say
kids grow up so fast
you don’t want to miss it
they say
miss it?
i am deep as fuck in it
living it
despite myself
every day

have you ever heard of “highly spirited children?” yeah. i have four of those.
they are wonderful, beautiful, brilliant, funny, explosive, screamy, dramatic little things. i love them dearly, but sometimes i find my thoughts wandering over to the dark side.
right now they are with their dad–who again–challenged our placement agreement.
whenever he does, i examine my determination to keep being their primary caretaker–to make sure i am not doing it for selfish or controlling reasons.
i discovered that even though i sometimes think i am a crap-ass mom…i completely believe it is best for our children to have me as a primary caretaker. even though i sometimes feel i am going insane with the stress of being a single mom & of raising four strong-willed children, i think i owe them that little bit of stability that being with me gives them.
i have been there for them since day one. i have a commitment to them. so, sure, sometimes i think dark thoughts, but hopefully–expressing those dark thoughts will help me work out those demons so i can be a better mom.
that’s important to me, being a good mom.
not a traditional or conventional mom, but the mom they need me to be. a crazy-ass mom who (most the time) can roll with the punches.

ps. i don’t drink box wine or else i would have known to call it box wine not bag of wine. oh well….

running with wolves

i just know you guys
are all
holy fuck will she ever shut up about her patreon page
but
no
here i am again
pimping myself
taunting you with a little taste
to lure you
to spend a some money
on me

the picture above is one of the pages of my latest series, “running with wolves,” where i examine my feral nature.
also, i have done pages on my latest epiphany–the one where i realize i have deluded myself into believing i had “true love”–twice–fucking it up both times.
turns out
i’m not a fuck up…i’m just delusional.
yay!

i am trying, in addition to supporting my own creative nature, to learn to support other artists & writers as well.
if you are interested in some kind of swap, let me know.
you all are totally worth it. reading your stuff & looking at your art brightens my every day & often inspires me.

The Turning: A Masterpiece by the Great Sarah Silvey

if you have not followed sarah yet nor bought her wonderful book, it would behoove you to do so!
she is so funny & awesome & someone you would want for your best friend…
i am in the process of reading THE TURNING & totally neglecting my kids to do so–that’s how good it is!!
(i love sarah)

Fresh Hell

Hey kids! Shameless promo here: my book doesn’t suck.

Dark fantasy. It’s got monsters, blood n guts, good friends, terrible enemies, swordfights, adventure, psychic powers. You know you’re curious. You like my writing, right? So why wouldn’t you like the book? It’s lots of fun, with just the right amount of fucked-up. I’ve had a smattering of reviews so far, all positive.

On Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Turning-Sarah-Silvey-ebook/dp/B01CKK36YY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1533050208&sr=8-1&keywords=the+turning+sarah+d+silvey

On Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/599602

On Itunes… here? Not sure because I have a PC, but you can at least use this as a starting point:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-turning/id1068588451?mt=11

On Barnes and Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-turning-sarah-silvey/1123130931?ean=2940152518016

I am insanely grateful to anyone who buys it. If you leave a review (preferably a kind one) I will have big puppy eyes for you. And if you leave an unkind review, I will go walleyed and wander off a cliff. Just kidding. I’m already walleyed just from bringing attention to myself. < _…

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