The Battle of the Moon

Copyright: Fantasy Fight GamesThe fires raged through the night.

The enemy engaged to win the fight.

Lightning cracked, thunder boomed.

The fortress was sacked. We all were doomed.

The full moon rose high in the sky.

We defeated our foes. I’ll tell you why.

The rain came down. The earth was mud.

Our enemies would drown in their own blood.

The Battle we won. The war to end soon.

Our enemies were gone at the Battle of the Moon.

– VJM, April 21, 2014


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You are my favorite flavor

my body wishes to savor.

To taste you would be too much.

I even shutter at your touch.

If I dare to meet your glance

you could see the lust by chance,

As it washes over me

and creates utter misery.

– March 2010 (originally published under my pen name, Samantha Hughes)


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Warning of Long Ago

Play the game of fear and shame but know she’s no fool.
In the scheme of things where promise brings life of rule
You will find your life not sublime where duty‘s bound.
Your dreams, your passion, your desire for her you found.

In distant places where love fades at dusk’s last light
With pride and lust full of lies despite wrong or right.
Connections unraveled in one swift twist of pain.
Time and more time will not restore lost love again.

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The Wolf Inside

This was written by my 13-year son. Out of the blue, he decides to write a poem.

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When the moon rises
You feel the heat
You taste the anger
You smell the meat
When the flower blooms
Deep in your heart
You feel the change coming
And it begins to start
When the blood is consumed
Get ready for a ride
Fur grows
Forming a mongrel hide
You lose control
A blood lust created
They razed the village
Which is why they’re hated
You can’t run
and you can’t hide
From the beast within
And the wolf inside

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Filed under Family, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

Step Back From The Edge

No beating around the bushes with words today.

Coming to grips with the news of yet another suicide of someone I knew, though not well at all, still stops me emotionally and mentally in my tracks. Some people have met with crisises in their lives and not lost hope. Some have never had a crisis in their lives but still have no hope. Then, there are ones with medical conditions that allow thoughts to go down all the wrong roads and they can’t see the beauty of life anymore.


If you think your life is awful… If you think no one approves of you… If you think you are alone in this world… do this at least once, or as many times as you need:  ask for help.  I call that moment when you think all is lost “the edge.”  When you see it, feel it, sense it, ask for help.

If you are lost without hope you often think there is no one to ask for help.  You should be very happy that you are wrong in that. Outside of friends and family, there are clergy, professionals and even volunteers that are willing to help you step back from “the edge.” You can talk to someone that knows your problems or if you’re more comfortable, talk with someone that doesn’t. But, talk. Communicate.

If you are in the Lubbock, Texas area, you can call Contact Lubbock 24-Hour Crisis Intervention at (806)-765-8393.  

Nationally, please call 1-(800)-784-2433.

I mentioned communicate above.  There’s more to it than that. Be brave in just one more moment to connect with someone outside of yourself. Be brave one more day through what must seem like the darkest times.  Be brave to let someone be touched by your life experiences. Each time, try one more time to communicate, to connect, to reach out.

Be brave for one more moment and connect to the world outside of you. It’s beautiful out here if you give it another chance.

Wishing you peace and love always.

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Filed under Beautiful, Failure, friendship, Happiness, hope

Large Wrecking Ball Required

May 20th, 2013. 5:15am.

I walked out of the house on time, really 5 minutes ahead of schedule, to catch a flight to a trade show for work in Atlantic City. Standing at the back of the car, just as I lift a piece of luggage into the back, my phone rang in my hand. A simple glance told me it was not my boss or co-worker also going on the trip with me. It was my mom. “No, Mom, no.” came out of my mouth and my husband moved from where he was standing at the garage door.

For .3 seconds I thought of not answering, but I needed to let my mom give me her message. I told my husband as he helped me with another bag but I could not pause for a hug, for his sympathy. I needed to get to the airport for this trip.

The days were busy and long. I stayed focused on work, and at the end of 3 days was utterly exhausted beyond my physical and emotional bounds. The flight from Philadelphia to Raleigh, and then the drive from RDU down to my hometown found me walking into the door of my childhood home and waking my mom slumbering in her recliner at 2am.

My grandmother’s funeral and subsequent time with my family are still a blur. My eyes teared up at the sight of my sister going through her emotions at the funeral and I grabbed her, staving off my own grieving to console her.  My family was already so weary from their own ordeals from the days before my grandmother’s passing.  We consoled ourselves with family memories and too many pieces of the obligatory cake or pie. A couple of days later when I stood up from my grandfather’s table to leave for my flight home, the weight of the week felt almost unbearable and I recognized my reluctance to depart as my denial of my own grief.

I drove the backroads to I-40, through the lands of my ancestors, full of emotional loss, physical exhaustion and sweet memories.  Arrival to my current home brought my nuclear family needs back in focus along with lots of work to be done at a new job. More time has passed but I have spent none grieving as I should.

The wall I built around the emotions of grief the last few weeks is tall, thick, well-constructed. I am an expert at building such walls.  I don’t know where to begin to grieve. I try to will the tears but the fear of pain, the fear of the tears never stopping, keep them from coming at all.  Someone told me that I am a strong woman. I see my inability to grieve properly as a weakness, a fault.

No one knows my inability to own my emotions is deeply seated in childhood pain and loss. I let a little bit of sorrow in and my world crashes in on me for months.  The wall around my current grief is part of a superstructure I have been building all of my life.  Whenever I mourn and tear down just one wall, the whole structure becomes unstable. I become unstable. I hate that feeling. I begin to lament every bad decision, every loss, every hurt, every pain my mind will not forget. I hate the overwhelmingness of it.

Just below the lump in my throat, sitting on top of my heart, is a massive structure of walls, hidden rooms, towers of secrets. One chink in the mortar, one removed stone threatens it. I do not have the strength to start the grieving. This is an advertisement for demolition needed. Large wrecking ball required.

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My Religion

There is nothing I hold more sacred than my love of mankind. Second to it are my thoughts on my religious beliefs. They are almost one in the same but not quite. I read a blog that made me think on them again. 

My response to the blog was quick, automatic and natural. These words poured out of me.

I do not need an organized religion, a group of people, or even a single person to affirm my own beliefs. My spiritualness, my religion, my beliefs and knowledge exist not because of others’ beliefs, but in spite of them as the blogger aptly pointed out the abuses of religion. I do not fear another’s belief system. I do not need anyone else to agree with my belief system to make me happy and secure in my own thoughts. I love and care more deeply and broadly than any formal religion that espouses exclusivity. Free from pushing one religious view, I am more genuine than any missionary, clergyman, reverend, pastor, rabbi, caliph, abbot, deacon or nun. I do not sit on any fence every religion has built. I freely, happily walk through every gate the blogger’s beliefs have closed. Though I have no need of it, thank you for the reminder of my good and wonderful decision, Alan Miller.





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