17 years ago today, I gave birth to a human being for the first time…



A post to a YouTube video

“Help!” is what I’ve been screaming inside. I have and I can. Now is the time for “I Will.”

“@ 5:34 Totally Me! http://Www.WarneBaileyBlogging.WordPress.com & http://www.IsThisRealLifeReally.blogspot.com Quickly became http://www.WayTooMuch.Podbean.com a Podcast that I paid to upgrade for monetization purposes and never posted another show after that. I am still getting $40 a Month taken from my account and it’s been almost a year.
*Important Disclaimer: I have been working on the Warner Bailey Project since 2017 as a 4th year #HOMELESS #DRUG #ADDICT #ALCOHOLIC which made it very hard to stay consistent. As of 1 month and 2 weeks ago I have finally moved into my own apartment and am ready to launch into The Warner Bailey Project which will become a movement.
I have a wealth of knowledge, experience, talent, skill, training, education, and pure Love to utilize. I procrastinate, I am a workaholic, I am healing from numerous tragedies. I am strong willed, I am powerful, I have a connection with a great source of energy that is so strong it can be seen with the naked eye. I am passionate about helping others, showing the world my humanity, I am bold and daring while living in fear and anonymity.
Thank you all for your comments, thank you for this post. I have read many of the comments here and have joined some of you on your journeys. I look forward to hearing, seeing, and building with you all.”

Peas and blessings,

“Life Sucks and is so Beautiful.”
-Warner Bailey

Many times, my life has felt like a movie. Any genre of film would be fitting… I mean ANY.

I have yet to find that sweet spot of writing where I have been consistent, even if my consistency doesn’t look like others, I want to be satisfied knowing that I delivered quality reading material to the world whether it be once a week or 4 times a year.

In between my rants and raves to you, I have these awesome ideas that would make for an abundance of writing material and a clear shot at success. I even went as far as staging the material in my head many times.

I have ideas of how I think I could write this blog post right now make an epic tale a turning point in my writing career but I now see this as a sad tale with what looks like an unhappy end.

I have less time to write this than I thought. If I can, I will add to this post another time. If this is the last I get to write, I hope that you come to understand.

“Life Sucks and is so Beautiful.” – Warner Bailey

Born Free, Mother to Baby

Happy Bornday Baby, From Mommy
Rip me open again, will you?
Let me breathe one more time in synchronicity with you,
my beloved.
I miss your tiny fingers clutching my breast while you fed.
Nails so thin and new, sharp, painful grasps, far from bothered because it was you.
This little light of mine.
She shines,
am blind.
With each new awakening, I remember vividly you saying, “Mommy, wake up. Wake up Mommy, it’s time to wake up.”
Your voice was so mature, I’d never heard you sound like that before, I left you, a baby, next phone conversation you had the voice I heard, mature.
Despite me, you thrive.
You saved my life.
Every day I die a little bit more.
My daughter, how strange still to say.
Still, I say it anyway.
Born on this very day, we waited patiently for you.
You tried to come too soon.
MIdwife says to be with Mommy a bit longer Dear.
Excited to meet you face to face,
I still wait.
Be still they say,
soon she’ll be with you.
I miss your laughing face.
Your beauty is beyond me.
I still can’t believe you call me Mommy.
Oh, Freedom, beloved blessing, your name says everything.
Be you always.
Mommy Loves you baby.
I’ve been struggling, in battle, fighting, for you for a decade, holding memories hostage, craving for how we used to be.
No longer 2 or 3, 12 now, wiser than me.
Never stop being you, don’t be like me.
Be you always.
– Warner Bailey

June 15, 2019

Death is a Maiden
The Siren Song of Death
Death is a maiden.
I feel her call – her siren song,
The mournful wailing.
I start to drown,
In the sinking ship I was bailing.
Death is a maiden that calls to me.

The Hair of Death
Death is a maiden.
A close call,
Trivial things caused me to rush.
The busy bustle of life,
That’s what caused my brush-
With the hair of death.
Death is a maiden with beauty everlasting.

The Luscious Lips of Death
Death is a maiden.
And I lust for her.
I received the kiss of her luscious lips.
Causing not an infatuation,
But an obsession of ginormous girth.
Death is a maiden and I flirt with her daily.

The Embrace of Death
Death is a maiden.
I yearn for the sweet release of her embrace.
An oxymoron, a contradiction,
Yet the immense freedom of her touch,
Is beyond human comprehension.
Death is a maiden who will never let go.

The Maidenhood of Death
Death has lost her maidenhood.
I united myself with her.
There was not a fight fought,
Only a lesson taught.
Death is a miserable cur.

-Don Silver

April, 2018

Age 15

I Forgot How It Feels

To be human again.
I turned in my imaginary cape.
It no longer fit.
I am woman. No longer girl.
Yes Ma’am.
Silver threads growing like streaks of sun rays bursting through dark clouds of hazy yesterdays.
I am human woman.
This is new. I am evolving.
I forgot what it was like to be human again. I forgot what it was like to be me. This is another version of me. Woman.
No longer girl. How exciting this will be.

“Life Sucks and is so Beautiful.”

– Warner Bailey


Don’t worry anymore. 

I was here the whole time too. 

I saw you even when I didn’t want to.

I knew you were there, I just didn’t want to look at you. 

Thank you. 

I think my love was so overwhelming for

myself I resisted the pull. 

I attended the fair and rode the rides



Fiona said,

“I sleep to dream.”, I

live for life itself 


now I’m ready to live with you and you too.

I love.


You, I thank. 

-Warner Bailey

“Life Sucks and is so Beautiful” – Warner Bailey

National Poetry Month – Day 29


And now for our penultimate (optional) prompt! The poet William Wordsworth once said that “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” For Wordsworth, a poem was the calm after the storm – an opportunity to remember and summon up emotion, but at a time and place that allowed the poet to calmly review, direct and control those feelings. A somewhat similar concept is expressed through the tradition of philosophically-inclined poems explicitly labeled as “meditations,” – like Robert Hass’s “Meditation at Lagunitas,” the charming Frank O’Hara prose poem, “Meditations in an Emergency,” or Charles Baudelaire’s “Meditation.”
Today, I’d like to challenge you to blend these concepts into your own work, by producing a poem that meditates, from a position of tranquility, on an emotion you have felt powerfully. You might try including a dramatic, declarative statement, like Hass’s “All the new thinking is about loss,” or O’Hara’s “It is easy to be beautiful; it is difficult to appear so.” Or, like, Baudelaire, you might try addressing your feeling directly, as if it were a person you could talk to. There are as many approaches to this as there are poets, and poems.
Happy writing!

I get my prompts HERE!

Life Sucks and is so beautiful

Life sucked so bad when all I wanted was a big brother. As an only child, I asked my Mother, begged and pleaded for a big brother. “That’s not how that works.” I remember her saying. Which ever way she responded each time I asked was the equivalent to “No.”
How beautiful life is when I was United with a son my father had with another woman, not my Mother. He’s older than me. We’ve grown to be very close. We get along famously. He is my big brother.
Life sucks and is so beautiful.
Life was beautiful in the beginning. Full of wonder, joy, peace, excitement, newness, comfort, Mommy, home, love, playing, learning, different, new, home, love, more, future, change, same, same home, same Mommy, same love. Striving for a plato of same while every now and then venturing off to new, to always come back to same.
Along the way I lost the will to wonder, I lost joy, peace, excitement, and comfort. Only newness was the same. I became uncomfortable, Mommy seemed so far away, home was far away until one day there was no home anywhere, anyway. Love felt lost, no more play. Still learning. Rapidly different, always new. No Mommy, no home, no love, no more, seemingly hopeless. Lost. Some unweighed portion of me still striving to come back, to what? I don’t know, except the feeling of comfort, Mommy, Home.
Life sucks, I’m still not awake to be comfortable while Mommy still waits for me to come home.

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