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.

Good morning Party People! Another glorious Monday morning. Mondays have been looked at as the worst day of the week. 
  • MONDAY IS THE MOST LIKELY DAY TO COMMIT SUICIDE: The Office for National Statistics in England found 16% of male suicides and 17% of female suicides occurred on Mondays, compared to 13% on the weekend days. Researchers said the trend was not solely a result of returning to work as it was also seen in retired people. source
  • OR HAVING A HEART ATTACK: The British Medical Journal reported a 20% increase in heart attacks on Mondays as opposed to the other days of the week. The attacks may be caused by stress and high blood pressure caused by returning to work. source
  • OVER 50% OF EMPLOYEES ARE LATE TO WORK: Comming up with a believable excuse to call out on a Monday is nearly impossible. Good luck with trying, being late is better than being absent.

Here are some positive Monday facts:

  • MONDAY IS THE LEAST RAINY DAY OF THE WEEK: Some believe it’s due to man-made pollution subsiding over the weekend. source
  • MONDAY IS THE BEST DAY TO BUY A CAR: Believe it or not, there are positive things about Monday. For instance, when you’re going to shop for a new car, do it on a Monday. Car salespeople make the bulk of their sales on the weekends. When Monday rolls around, there are usually few customers in sight, and the weekend is a long way off. That’s why car salespeople are more desperate on Monday, and they’ll be more willing to cut you a deal. source


Today, Monday, April 22, 2019, is EARTH DAY!

Earth Day is an annual event celebrated on April 22. Worldwide, various events are held to demonstrate support for environmental protection.

According to Gaylord Nelson, the moniker “Earth Day” was “an obvious and logical name” suggested by a lot of other people in the fall of 1969, including, he writes, both “a friend of mine who had been in the field of public relations” and “a New York advertising executive,” Julian Koenig.[25] Koenig, who had been on Nelson’s organizing committee in 1969, has said that the idea came to him by the coincidence of his birthday with the day selected, April 22; “Earth Day” rhyming with “birthday,” the connection seemed natural.[26][27] 

For more extensive information on the history of Earth Day please click Here.



Earth Day – Ride Transit Free

Ride Transit for FREE this Earth Day – April 22, 2019
No need to TAP your card at all! 
Free rides are offered on buses, trains, and bike share bikes. The free rides begin at 4 a.m. on April 22 and continue until 3 a.m. on Tuesday, April 23.
Participating agencies: 
LADOT (and LAnow – promo code: RIDELANOW)
Metro Bike Share (use promo code: 4222019)
Pasadena Transit
Omnitrans (free mobile ticket)

Moovit will get you wherever you are going on Earth Day.
Here’s to a cleaner planet! 🌎
You ride, we guide. 


Celebrate Earth Day by planting a tree!

Come on down to Sun Valley Recreation Center and join Councilmember Nury Martinez, Cal Fire, the Department of Recreation and Parks, City Plants, and the Los Angeles Conservation Corps for a fun and family-friendly day of climate and community action!

Come for the tree planting, stay for the environmental education resource fair and free yard tree give-away.

Family Earth Day (Del Amo)

Del Amo Fashion Center celebrates Earth Week with crafts, face-painting, balloon twisting, snacks, and more. The first 50 children at the event take home a copy of The Earth Book by Todd Parr.

Activities are located in the Play Area (located in front of JoAnn’s Fabrics),

Space is limited; RSVP online

Many More Activity Ideas For EARTH DAY Can be found





“Life Sucks and is so Beautiful.” 

– Warner Bailey 

And now for our optional prompt! Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that “talks.” What does that mean? Well, take a look at this poem by Diane Seuss. While it isn’t a monologue, it’s largely based in spoken language, interspersed with the speaker/narrator’s own responses and thoughts. Try to write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life. You might incorporate overheard speech or a turn of phrase you heard once that stood out to you – the idea here is to get away from formally “poetic” speech and into the way language tends to work out loud.
Happy writing!

Bits and Peices of Streets and People

Hey soul sista,

I overheard you say there’s a party going on over there.
I almost wore my house slippers to the store, making it impossible to cut a rug. I can rip it up now, my favorite flats used to have thin straps across the top, I broke one then cut the other off, the shoes feel better now.
I wanna dance to loud music all night long.
He is just a baby but he could feel the tension between Mommy and Daddy. I hope we eat soon, he thought.
Best friends laugh together so loud and hard. Faces red. Bellies aching. The laughter lasted a long time. Both friends have forgotten what was so funny in the first place. They laugh another few minutes anyway.
Laughter is contagious.
The man asking passerbys for money smelled of raw onions, rotten fish, burnt plastic, and Toe jam. He began to laugh too. Belly empty, feet blistered and bloody. Hair matted. Black dirt from head to toe.
What does the beggar have to laugh about?
Laughter was the last sound before falling into a deep sleep.
Nights like this I wish you were here with me to hold me close and discuss religion.
God bless us all.

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

The true horizon is actually a theoretical line, which can only be observed when it lies on the sea surface.

Prospective is a mutha fucka

See through my eyes you can’t.

Let me describe it to you best way I know how.

Listen to the words and the rhythm in which they’re said. Hear the emphasis, the staccato, lulls, breaks, and bridges. Join me in my head through every sight, sound, taste, and smell, I express with passion and conviction, sentiment and feeling.

Still you may hear it different.

It may not be bass and treble, it can be as simple as cases being upper and lower, we will both recite that “W” is the letter.

What I see is real, I see something. I see the horizon when they say it’s coming, until I scew my focus and the line becomes blurry and my surroundings become clear and far too close to me.

The scene is the same. I change.

I can look at anything in anyway.

“Perspective is something else.” I shake my head and say.

Twisted in the worst and the best way.

“Life Sucks and is so Beautiful.” Warner Bailey

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