Dance of the Tarantulas Sitting on the porch with three cats for company who suddenly go on alert. There on the ground were two hairy, very large, Tarantula spiders. I jump nimbly to the other side of the table, while cats form a circle like referees. The spiders rear up on their back legs-a forbidding sight- and proceded to pounce on each other with much ferocity. I named the larger one Thor, the other, Loki. They parry and thrust, with an occasional paw swipe from an umpire cat. Savage little tangles go thud in my mind. A final strike and Loki goes down. Thor celebrates by rearing up one last time and departs the scene. The cats cop a feel of Loki in death throes and then move on unconcerned. A swat team of ants show up, porch patrol; but in reality word is out-the local butchers have fresh meat.   © 9/2005 SB CHURNING MY MIND A Short Discourse On Getting Shrunk     How are you doing these days? Fine, just fine. What does "fine" mean? Well Dr., it means I am holding my own these days. A little anxiety, but not much. Though you know, that anniversary day is coming up and I guess I am a bit more antsy. Define antsy.(I look at him scribbling furiously, these notes he takes) Antsy, anxious, unsettled, you know. Tell me about that day, what you felt. We've been over this, why again? So I can mark your progress. I sigh and in the middle of telling him the tears start rolling down my cheeks. Now see what you made happen! Why must you always ask me about that day?? I'm doing my job, Susan. Well your job sucks!! Stalemate. How are your meds? Need refills? Yes, on this, and on that. Oh, and that one too, for anxiety. I'll see you in one month. Ok. Take care now. Yeah, bye. *In the car driving away..what the hell just happened in there??* 07/13/2005 © SQB  Quiet Corners of My Mind    In the quiet corners of my mind I seek solace from the chaos that reigns rampant in my life. The craziness of today's world leaves me breathless in it's relentless wake of constant screaming for attention and me first ideology.   In my moments of panic I arrive at unreachable destinations of grand illusions caused by medicine induced hallucinations and I stop- delusions of grand illusions caused by hallucinations make me cackle silently to myself.   Question being do I bring it on myself, by my never ending quest to find answers  to the unanswerable. Quiet corners whisper enticingly to me, making me  turn and follow the siren's call to a refuge of peaceand calm. A place of cool waters washing me clean.   Will I have made a difference when it's time for me to leave? Will I have made a difference in helping my fellow man maneuver these paths of life and the chaos that reigns for most of us, though silently, in the dark recesses of endless nights?   Come, join me in my corners, for I have plenty. Just for a minute, rest your weary head and know that you are safe within MY quiet space. I will watch over you and share all that I have to bring you peace and sustenance for the journey ahead. 4/02/05 © SQB  Island Rain    The rain beats it's rhythm hard into the soil. Cascading down through blue-bit rock. The smell of wet earth, comforting. Coral-red rooftops stand out against dark mountain green. Birds preen as white gossamer mists trail through the tree tops. A plethora of color attract the eye. Pink and yellow cedar trees, red hibiscus, fuchsia bougainvillea. White frangipani, purple oleander, orange ivy. My eyes take in the detail of raindrops falling from leaves. Cats take shelter in a small nook; awaiting rays of sunshine to turn forest green to emerald. 1/09/05  © SQB Spin-Drift   The wind blows sprays of salt to lay like cottony bubbles on the sand. I look at it and feel my mind going, spinning, thinning, like bits of a spiderweb. As I float about at the mercy of the wind, I consider myself. Self, I say, not a bad trip, you think? Not bad, not bad at all I reply. I continue to spin, and thin. The roar of the waves bring me out from under. The smell of salt heavy, weighty, comforting. I spy another drift and I spin some more, first going down, then spinning up. The alarm goes off and is justifiably hurled against the wall. I blink, yawn, blink again. Wild dream, man. Yeah, I said, wild. I turn over and see the bottle of Xanax laying open on its side. I gobble the remaining four, choking on water. Yeah man,here comes another of those fluffy salt balls. Spinning, thinning, spinning. 10/20/04 © SQB The Life That Grief Built The crumbled heap stood before her, a testament to her world. Looking around she caught glimpses of things familiar, some tiny, some almost whole. Her mind screamed constantly, a soundless roar blocking out any rational thought. Sometimes she screamed back,out loud, at the pile of debris laying at her feet. Over a year later, cobwebs and dust having gathered, she sat among the debris and thought. Long and hard she thought, about how to pick up the pieces and move on. One at a time was the answer that came. Pick up a piece, toss or keep; lighten the load for the journey ahead. Repetition can be numbing, and ruthless, and purging. Those in the "keep" pile are being used to rebuild her life and her love. The glue holding it all together cannot be bought. No cement mixture strong enough to compare. The foundation laid and cornerstone engraved with the stamp of life's lessons, the building goes on. Somehow the pieces left over are finding their niche, seamlessly fitting into place. Whosoever enters this life through the years, will only add to its character and depth. The look and appeal of the outside will be defined by the brick and mortar of the inside. Should her walls ever threaten to fall, she need only look inside and see the titanium girders that keep her tall; and know she will always find the strength to carry on. 9/5/04 © SQB The Lost   They wander the streets inconspicuous in cities. Looking out from hidden doorways, alleys, even the sewer grates.   Their pictures if lucky, grace the sides of milk cartons. The lost, we don't know them, toss out the empty container.   Heavy armor, the camouflage jackets cover their thin ribs. Backpacks dirty, hanging. Somehow the eyeliner still shows and you see startled eyes. Hair-defiant,or is it just unwashed?   Grime covers exposed skin, yet rain is free water to drink. Soup kitchens, shelters, cardboard, whatever.   Wall street, Bourbon street, Rodeo Drive, they are there. Do you see them? Inconspicuous, the lost.  © 2004/SQB

The Dining Table   Center of focus, it sits there clueless of it's importance. Along comes the family, one girl, two boys; mother, father.   The nightly ritual has begun. Voices trying to outdo each other with the events of the day. Mixed with pleadings to pass the platter.   Other times it is a solid thing to lean on, when life has you down. Thoughts, tears,problems solved, advice given, joys shared.   Visitors converge through the front door. Friends just walk in the back, straight into the kitchen and the table. A cup of coffee or tea. A how-do-you-do, just stopped by to say hello.   A place of comfort for the weary, heart of the home. Smells of cooking food, banging of pots and pans. Washing up the dishes; all makes for conversations and the daily routine of life. Go ahead, I'll just sit here (at the table) and chat with you while you finish up. 7/6/04 © SQB

Rolling Thunder   Rolling thunder the Hawaiians call it. It surges and crashes with tremendous force, the earth shudders. Sunset Beach, Pipeline, Waimea Bay, and the secret nameless coves along the way. The people come in droves to witness nature in motion. A winding trail of ant-like cars drawn by the thunder of the North Shore waves. They watch as those who rise to the challenge of the sea get thrown out and deposited, if lucky, on the sandy beach. Though far from the soothing noise now, I can hear it still, see it still. Rolling thunder and white spray blowing back-wards, it calls to me...will I answer?   © 6/18/04 sqb  Conversations In Passing...   Hello, good morning, how are you? {Polite, agreeable, inquiring}   What the hell!? Who did that, I wonder? Did I tell you  you could go there?? {Incredulous, Nosy, Irate}   Well, she said that... But that's not what... I said it's ok, she told... Look at those shoes! {GOSSIP}   K, see ya later. Bye now. Take care. Was nice seeing you again. Let's do lunch.. {Positive re-enforcement}   Help. Can somebody please help me? I need some help here, please!   Silence........   7/21/04 © SQB  Memories of Yesterday   They say you can't go home again, yet here I am. They say you can't go back in time, yet here I am. Sure, the paint is a bit faded, the alleys a bit more crowded. More cars than people on an island of 32 square miles. In my mind's eye I see the people and land of yesterday. In reality I see the stores, tourists, ships and cars. I see umbrellas shading people trying to get tans on beaches. The pulse and the rhythm of the island still beats strong and deep. Proud and outgoing. Laid back and polite. The ocean runs a variety of colors, crystal clear to deep royal Caribbean blue. The trees and plants profuse in color, bright and beckoning. Memories of yesterday filling my senses in the here and now. Soothes my soul..... 6/25/04 © SQB  Fragmented Thoughts from a Fragmented Mind They come in bits and pieces confusing me, these thoughts. At times I cannot remember what it was I was thinking. "They" look at me as if I've lost my mind. Well I have! Parts of it anyway...right? What was I doing? Why? Does anyone care? Does anyone know? I am looking over a ledge into the color grey... I hear white noise.... There's a certain safety in thinking crazy. I think. 7/31/04 © SQB