Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
the bluebird sings yew trees grin a sunless mourning snow falls solemn angels wait, but it’s winter white summer heels petticoat prettied books, babies, poetry a tea sandwich cut in two, white cold milk open the bedroom window but, it’s winter shh, sleep sleep beautiful gentle sleep, a lady always Read more
Paris, France 1920 AT last! They’ve left! They think that I’m asleep! They think that they can rest from their watch, but I know better, I know that they can’t stop me. Here’s the window! Open the shutters, and there’s the street five stories below! They think I’m a coward, Read more
The question I dread the most as a grieving mother is; “How many children do you have?” It’s not that I don’t know how to answer, it is all the questions that follow. I’m immediately forced to decide whether or not I want to reveal more intimate information than the Read more
Part 3 of a 3 part series. After interviewing my mother, reading through the archives of my memoirs, taking note of the dark memories that quietly play in the back of my mind like an old French noir film, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve hit a plateau, with Read more
There comes an age when screwing up is not cute anymore. You know that, because people are constantly telling you. It’s not cute anymore, Raleigh. My name is Raleigh, by the way; Raleigh of Boston, Massachusetts. Although to be fair, my mother is from Raleigh the actual city, so it Read more
I go to a women’s gym five or six days a week, and always at 8 a.m. so that I can meet up with my buddies. We exercise our tongues as much as our bodies (more), and we call ourselves The Women’s Support Group. We share each others’ problems, offer Read more
I would like to believe, that we are a country built on assured values. One value that most of us would hopefully agree on is that sexual violence, against children, women, and men – is a reprehensible act. The facts tell a different story: 1 in 5 girls and 1 Read more
Part 1 My mother is not a mother to me like a television mother. She’s more like a friend, a friend of a friend even. She’s the friend whose phone number you always lose on “accident.” When I was young, I used to idolize the kids on TV, especially the Read more