California is sinking under the weight,

of three years of rain in a day.

North Korea is practicing launching bombs,

At the distracted Divided States of America

Fallen now under the weight of its own pride

Look up to all the lines in the sky

Is it more than we can fix?

Have we gone beyond the tilting edge

I must say,

There was a certain comfort knowing

Big Brother lived next door

Something else no more.

Falling into overly warm oceans

polar bears decease

Melania and ivanka

concerned if they are obese.

They worry about their wardrobe,

While I consider my children and grandchildren

and yours too.

Art is muted

I am silent.

Maybe you are grateful

You get to think you are right

right right right

and the left is falling under the tracks

The train is set

and you are the driver. Good for you.

Leave you in your pile of rubble standing alone

with no place to call home

Turtle Island is sinking

The earth we continue raping

Dolphins and whales perishing.

It seems to me that

God is on vacation.

There isn’t anything to say

You all seem to know it all.

Kissing your ridiculous cardboard effigies

to the Great Lord of Lies

Waste waste wasting my time.

Feet on the ground

unknown in this sad space

Unhappy people angry at anything that isn’t familiar to them

Isn’t what fits into their tiny box minds

Dressed in fashion camo wear;

wanna go out and shoot a bear?

Get a life.

Pathetic so-called peace loving nouveau  hippies

Making the newest market of what to buy and get.

You are SO full of shit.

Music festival-going-acid-taking-mindless drivel.

Come on now – get a handle.

Going to the university of YouTube

buy hundred dollar hemp jewellery

and eat fancy organic crap

But can’t even bother

to feed the neighbours cat.

You cant quell the voice of opposition

even those it is in this condition

that we will see you fall

I am tired

But I would do it all














The Glass is Always Full


Rik Roe: Words & Pictures


“Is the glass half empty or half full?” a common expression, a proverbial phrase, generally used rhetorically to indicate that a particular situation could be a cause for optimism (half full) or pessimism (half empty), or as a general litmus test to simply determine an individual’s worldview.

2017 seems to have begun with 1 of these 2 views, and based on media (both real and social), obviously more of one than the other.

What we tend to forget that Life, is much like the Tao:


Yin and Yang, are two opposite and complimentary energies that make up a whole; that one is not ever fulfilled without the other. Yin and Yang cannot exist without the other, they are never separate.

Whether we perceive them as freezing and boiling, dark and bright, good and evil, they are but parts that become a sum.


Exactly how we view a…

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Soft Places

All of the hope I have

fits in the tender inside part

of my palm.

In that soft place where I liked to be kissed

Gently – with only a small noise

when I am feeling bad.

Warm breath in hand

Hold it if you can,

Then flip it to the stars!

There you are,

Same as you once were.

Smiling – not frowning and angry

like this I don’t know you.

Full of hot air

All of your substance has leaked out 

And your love is not showing. 

Come now baby,

Light my fire!

Take the mind higher

than this.

It is not the time to stand still,

and worry about what is substance

and what is fill.

It is all distraction,

while fat men sit under shady fig trees

Scratching their old dog fleas,

With feet up like the Cheshire cat,

Doing nothing about this or that.

Now rooted to flashy terminals,

trying to be right all day long,

sending likes up to the sky,

Wondering at all emptiness inside.

Expounding yourself to death

want to be happy, wrong or right?

Yet, someone always says you can

pull the mind from the root of itself,

Just like the earth,

maybe when we die?

Crumbling from a long broken heart,

Love does not destroy happiness,

just to be right.




“When Times Get Tough” Things To Remember


Thoughts for my children

or me

or you.

For when times get tough

good advice I don’t take enough

Everything is passing. Enjoy it all, but don’t hold on to any of it.

Pat yourself on the back at least three times a day.

Don’t take your thoughts so seriously, they will make you crazy.

Play music, make art – do something creative and fun every single day.

It’s Why you are alive.

Notice that when you are depressed

most of your thoughts are about you.

Widen your world.

Find every possible way to be relaxed and happy in each situation of your life.

Be nice to people even when they are not so nice to you.

Do yoga.

Not fluffy American crappy nouveau yoga –

real Indian badass yoga.

Find your mind.

Spend time with your mind without it owning you once a day.

Lighten up

and remember that without exception

every single person in the world wants the same thing you want.

Stop judging anyone including your self.

Call your family: mom, dad, sister brother, cousin –

it doesn’t matter who just do it once a week.

It reminds you that you are connected to people

That you come from somewhere.

Commit to one day a week (to begin)

to not say ONE negative thing at all for the whole day.

Even find a new way to say the word no.

Keep a journal – it helps you work things out.

Don’t jump from one thing to the next. Pause, breathe between each activity in your day. Regroup.

This year – stop thinking about what people think about you.  Really. Just stop it. It doesn’t matter.

Learn to ask for and accept help when you need it.

Love yourself. No one can love you more than you can love yourself.

Do one nice thing a day, for a person,

your neighbour, a stranger or even your cat or dog!

And don’t let anyone know you did it.




Wishing you a blessed new year.







Image result for twas the night before christmas chaos

T’was the night before….

the night before Christmas

and lo and behold

We hadn’t shopped for one gift

and so we were told

To get out of the house

and into the shops

Or your kids will cry and

Christmas will flop.


So out we ran

my husband in tow

around in circles

didn’t know where to go!

The big box stores just made us mad

Since no Christmas spirit could be had.

So on we went

in search of some cheer

when we found ourselves thinking

it might be nice to have a beer??!!

But now come to think of it

Better be sober

Got too much to do

To nurse a hangover!


Another day passed

with great anxiety,

we had to be ready,

with more gifts aplenty!

Dashing into one store,

and out of the next,

our baskets were full,

but we weren’t finished yet.

Then back to the house,

in a flurry of stuff,

we wrapped and we bowed,

and we blinged and we fluffed.

Then what should appear

to our wondering eyes

but our seven lovely children

and a great big surprise!

They had come empty handed,

but with hearts full of love,

to remind us of Christmas

and the better lesson of love.

To recall what we had taught

to them for so long,

love one another,

and say sorry when you’re wrong.

Be good to yourselves,

And to each other

And for gods sakes

Stopping picking on your brohter.

and don’t give up on love,

When times get rough

When you have big questions,

don’t forget to look up.

Remember that this family,

is your forever tribe,

and when you have troubles,

We are always by your side.

Now we see seven beautiful children,

And some grandchildren too

All sent from heaven

We wish you all

To our family and friends

The best of teh seasons

And goodwill towards all men.

**Merry Christmas to all of our Friends and family this Christmas.  Sending blessings and hopes of peace to our planet for this coming year.




A morning poem

Go gently into this day.

Take a breathful moment with each careful step

Eyes open to your nature,

For somewhere inside of you,

is Truth its very self.

You are loved –

and you are love.

Some grand and awesome future awaits you,

Take a first step,

Look around again.

After the first  one,

the only step that we know how to take,

be amazed!

The second has not yet been invented.

And it is never guaranteed.

Honour the heart that beats in your chest.

Amazingly without need of your assistance,

or thought,

or any big plans your complicated mind can conjure.

Imagine having to think…

“I will live for one more beat!”

If you don’t believe in miracles,

You’re not looking in the right place.

Cherish the random acts of love that will cross your path today.

Step through time,

into the next minute.

Breathe into the next space,

Where you stand – or sit

alone – or accompanied.

You are still your own beautiful self

in all these precarious contexts.

Walk with the higher things

that beckon you to remember

that your nature is not fear

or sadness

or even aloneness.

You always have God

Or the beautiful dead that protect you

shielding you from

The dark and scary things.

Your true self lies

in the victory

Of your next discovery.

What does your heart say?

It seems that the heart always says…

Carry on.

You are loved

and you are love.

(Reposted from 2014)



Silent night, darkest night

All is not calm,

nor is it bright.

Heartbroken young children,

escaping the war,

When nobody wants them,

They cannot go far.

The world needs lasting peace.

The world needs lasting peace.

Silent night,

Darkest night,

winter has come,

to bring the light.

Horrors stream,

from all the news stations,

giving us pause

For some serious reflection.

This world needs lasting peace.

This world needs lasting peace.

Silent night, darkest night

Leaders are profiting

From ignorant masses.

Hopeless people ,

Line up at the store.

Hoping they can have,

just a little but more.

The world needs lasting Peace.

The world needs lasting Peace.

Holy night, darkest night

All is not calm,

nor is it bright.

Sleep now under,

The bright shining stars

When you wake

Just be who you are

This world needs lasting peace.

This world needs lasting peace.

Hardest night,

Coldest night,

All may be calm,

But it certainly isn’t bright.

Hope creeps into,

The awakening heart,

Bring us together,

Before we fall apart.

This world needs lasting peace

This world needs lasting peace.


 Image result for cold winter Silken snow falls in layers,

one day to the next.

Like the thoughts we think,

in small white packages.

Never quite the same,

They keep on drifting,

from some unknown place,

landing on your face,

like a small shock

A memory you can’t erase.

Then finally melting away,

leaving a place for the next –



Same thing.

Both come and go,

Leaving very little impression,

Upon the world.

Alone in a shaft of light,

that begs your rapt attention,

Awaiting as always that one solitary bird,

Who ahead of nature’s schedule,

Sobs out a hopeful spring song,

Announcing the foggy possibility,

that life will continue,

Even after you have frozen to death,

and the world has long ago,

giving you up for dead.

Something solidified and now,

not so easily identified,

is you

Left wondering on the side of the road.

Can your tears melt the crust,

of the life left hanging from your unwilling skin?

Leave yourself in your own dust,

standing on the aside of the road,

Unwilling to feel the harsh sun,

once again upon your skin.

The warmth makes the cold

Feel much colder.

Silken snow comes in layers,

one day to the next,

Like thinking thoughts,

in small white packages,

that never come again twice,

Relentlessly drifting,

from some unknown place,

landing on your face,

Then finally melting away,



I am touched by

the shift

the love

the desire

that abounds

all around.

I am touched

by the thoughts we hold

small children in a war

so strong and bold

prayers sustain the spinning earth

While we crawl through the dirt

of our mind

Side by side

in this beautiful land.

I am touched

by the struggle

and by the love


and realness


as you are

wonderful humans!

in this world

we are together



by this marvelous  life.





A Whole Life Lived


My aunt Rita died today.

She was 93 and had  long and  well – a long life. She worked for herself, had few relationships with other human beings and died essentially estranged from most of her family.

This has made me ask the serious question of HOW a life becomes like this – isolated and alone and feeling unessential and not a part of the living world.

Aunt Rita’s  death was announced on Facebook. in a “status share” – just like that. There were no concerned calls of preparatory condolence or concern. Just a status posting on my cousin’s timeline with a really cool sharing of awesome family pictures.

I have wondered about her often over the years, always too scared to go see her. the reports of her disdain for other family members frightened me and I was unwilling I suppose to daunt my sparse but decent memories of her.

I know my mother really loved her, and that when she was pregnant with me, as a young unwed catholic teenager – aunt Rita took her in for a time and was very kind to her.  For a woman who didn’t have children of her own, and generally minded her own business this was a very compassionate act.

Aunt Rita to me never seemed very concerned with the opinion of anyone but my father really. She was quite happy to tell you off if you crossed her lines. She always seemed to be abit of a trailblazer and a rebel. Her sense of humour dry enough to snap a twig.

The pictures of my Aunt and family fascinated me and I stared at them for a very long time, as questions formulated in my mind.

I studied them and looked hard – to see the family i knew growing up in the small black and white children that lived in pictures in an era so long ago it seemed like still shots from Walton’s Mountain.

My grandmother was an amazing woman whom we all loved very much. She died at 96 from a very satisfying life – less than a yea after my Father died saying “no mother should have to bury her children”. We agreed. She was an incredible pioneering woman – always loving and open dawning a constant no nonsense positive attitude full of good advice,  never to be messed with, best maker of vanilla cookies ever. I named my youngest daughter’s middle name after her – Emilienne.

That’s Auntie Rita sitting on Grandpa’s lap.  She had these awesome clear blue eyes like my dad, so even in her pictures as a really young girl you can tell who she is from her other sister siblings.

My dad – that is my biological grandfather who adopted me when I was a baby so I knew him as my dad – is the only boy in the picture other than Grandpa.  You may have to look carefully – he was sporting quite a flowing mane in those days.

(I wish he was still around so I could make fun of him actually.)

As I began to scroll down the page Rita’s life emerged in front of me.  From an adorable baby, to a little girl who was obviously enamored with her older brother.

The photos reveal Rita as a slightly inhibited by the big world, but adventurous enough to go it with a friend. I love this picture. Her smiling eyes and her motion of determined forward action – she was goign somewhere and there was no way she could ever hide her glorious excitement. Little kid joy. What a wonderful feeling.

Not surprisingly it is my father holding her back.  This was probably his role allot.  She would barrel forward and he would be mindful of her safety.


The question emerged as I went through the pictures –

How do you go form being a curious, beautiful full of joy little kid then an amazing trailblazing rebellious beautiful woman, to an angry sad resentful distanced adult – senior and eventually memory.

how does life unravel itself like this for someone?


Aunt Rita was married twice. The rumours in the family were that her first husband was an abusive alcoholic.  I always thought she was brave for getting out and finding someone she loved. Uncle Joe was incredibly cool, gentle sweet and funny.  He was Irish with a little crop top navy head of grey hair. At Christmas and other family functions,  he always stood beside me and said funny jokes or quippy comments about whatever family member would be regaling us with their stories at the time to keep me from getting bored. Things like:

“Eh Josie – that’s quite a head of hair she’s got there hmm?…” HGe would say in his soft Irish brogue, then look at me with his twinkly smiling eyes and laugh, the eternal beer clutched in his right fist, me stifling a giggle.

Uncle Joe was great.  He drove a ’57 Chevy allot like this one and took me for rides. Image result for 1957 chevy

But after Uncle Joe died, it seems like Aunt Rita stopped coming to family things mostly all together.  Not that I could blame her. Our family seems to go through giant waves of shit, and at that time, we experienced a rash of deaths one after another. So mostly the “family events” were all reduced to funerals.  Weddings were a little less frequent and allot less eventful now that the majority of the drinkers in our family had gotten sober. So we really didn’t see aunt Rita very much at all in the past 15 years or so.

The news in the family was that maybe she had developed dementia because she had become incredibly cruel in some of the things she had said to people.

However, my quiet and unexpressed estimation is that if she didn’t like you or you did something to piss her off, given the opportunity to express that feeling to them, she would take it.  That would be more like Rita.  In your face honest. You couldn’t fault her for her forthrightness.  Her “No bullshit” attitude was what my mother had always said she loved about her.   There was not a deceptive bone in her body, and I can really appreciate such a rare quality in a person.

Watching aunt Rita’s life unfold and through these pictures gave me a chance to reflect on the entirety of a life with a somewhat distanced view. It allowed me to ask some really fundamental questions.

What happens to a person’s curiosity and bliss as they leave childhood to teenage hood, young adulthood, early middle and late adulthood, senior ages?

Here, and maybe its just the pose, but Rita seems more pensive, quiet – introspective. the fire of her youthful eyes has dimmed slightly. Maybe she locks a little unconcerned even – her shoulders hunched  slightly inwards tells me she is closed in the area of her heart – seeks to protect herself emotionally. Am I over-analyzing or is this not the same energy as the little girl in the pictures.

More questions emerge:

So, what happens after your beauty fades? Your purpose disappears? Your partner dies? What happens when your physical identification with yourself, how you look, what you do, and who you do it with, fades?

From a defiant curious adventurous joyful little kid




A whole life lived! 93 years Aunty Rita – thank you for the scratchy woolen slippers at Christmas. I hope you find uncle Joe really fast. Please say hi to dad and grandma, grandpa,  and mom and – ok well everyone.

I hope you found your happy little kid feeling again.

Peace and Love