-Get Firefox! join the tribute to the victims of 9/11Just Foreign Policy Iraqi Death Estimator barbtries a blog: February 2003
barbtries a blog
Thursday, February 27, 2003
JuxtaFeelin - free association for everyone!
juxta, juxta, juxta. i do enjoy your writing. this is not the first time you inspired me to go dust off an oldie. i wrote "deargod" in about five minutes almost thirty years ago. and now thanks to juxta, or blame it on juxta! :) - i'm pasting the old bugger to my blog.


From the rhymes that have no minds inherent
and no coherence or sobriety
free me!
bless me, o whatever you are,
fate, my mate, whom I love and hate,
get me out of these messes with your blesses
and I will be complete
for sure, it will be no mean feat,
to kick my mind in the seat
and show me complete, replete
with a whole new heart
apart from the past
that cannot, must not last.
eh, master?
Can’t you do it any faster?
control my soul to its limits and free it to freedom’s greatest height,
no five foot three (that’s me) but eternity to infinity free,
please, god, i’m on my knees
basking in the lonelies and the heebee jeebies...
mister, please
oh destiny
free me to love only you and if you love me too
you’ll make my life long you’ll make me be strong
you’ll carry me along
rather easily...
free me, destiny,
master of my fate, my mate throughout life,
i will be a perfect wife if you’ll only, only
let me be me,
and faster and faster speed me through space
til I glimpse your face and then,
kind sir,
I will be yours

Tuesday, February 25, 2003
written in November 2001 after my daughter was murdered on july 19 of that year, is on my mind today i can't say just why.

Where Are You

Where are you Bekah-la I miss you so
My lament has not begun to change
Why my girl I cry still
I woke up again today, to hear the news that makes
My being attempt to abandon its only place

Take me to a different place. Leave me alone right here?
Is she? Does she? Will she?
I've nothing better to do than wait.
Drive me to the patch of grass that covers her
Is she? Do you think?
Bekah do you think?

You give me poems; you give me many pages
I would rather have you
Would rather drink the sight of you
Than cover another mile of freshly lined
Inviting paper with words of you

Or any word. Every word today contains
The same information.

wearing her bandanna on my wrist, i visit the shrine where bekah died three days earlier after she was hit by the car in front of the tree, dragged by the car about a hundred yards down the road, then dumped in the median while the driver of the car drove home and went to sleep.

Monday, February 24, 2003
Studio8.net-We Beat the Pants Off Other Comedy Sites and Then Wear Those Pants

even funnier. damn it made me start coughing up that lung again. don't go to this page if you don't want to laugh.

we LOVE to laugh...

Studio8.net-We Beat the Pants Off Other Comedy Sites and Then Wear Those Pants

funny. dang it's good to laugh every once in a while

on the couch 8-6-05

AlterNet: Dial "P" for Peace
virtually demonstrate against the war that should not be

Saturday, February 22, 2003

i got a good digital pic of my tattoo, taken at andy's going away party last sunday. so here 'tis! :)

Thursday, February 20, 2003
SunRASon Services

a potential publisher, and the publisher of my friend's soon-to-be-released book. :)

Wednesday, February 19, 2003
High Water

you just need to read george if you wonder about the war that should not be.

how's that for a name? the war that should not be

Monday, February 17, 2003

Naval Training Base at Great Lakes, Illinois

Andy came by for the last mom-cooked meal for at the minimum eight weeks. I walked him out to his car and as i write he is packing his bags most probably. his recruiter will pick him up and he'll be spending the night in a local hotel. flying out to illinois via commercial airliner, he thinks, tomorrow.

sigh. breathe in the positive, breathe out the negative. andy be well, stay well, come home well.


Saturday, February 15, 2003
Black-throated Gray Warbler (Dendroica nigrescens) Picture and ID :: Green Nature ::

i'm taking lessons in animal spirit guides and found this page while trying to name the many birds who are speaking to me...

Spybot - Search & Destroy by PepiMK Software
get the spies!

Charley Reese

Charlie Reese enumerates briefly and consisely why this war should not happen

Thursday, February 13, 2003
You LIve Your Life As If It's Real

Ray has written another snappy satirical snip about the moron known as mr president.
i've been paralyzed for about a month now, i guess. i can't seem to summon a better word for this horrendous sluggishness. occasionally i weep. well, daily. this is the sophomore year of my bereavement and i was warned that the second year would be worse than the first, but typically i thought somehow i would leapfrog that horror.

no, i wouldn't - i couldn't, i can't, any more than i can make bekah be alive.

so stressers: i'm being deposed tomorrow by rambo's lawyers for the civil suit. even worse, my son reports to the navy on tuesday. my 19-year-old baby boy andy. weep. now stop, and smile at him. be proud of him. stop worrying because it's dumb and useless, positive thoughts are useful all the way around.

3-18-07 images replaced due to loss of server...

to any and all who happen upon this post, please keep a positive thought in your heart for my boy, and all of our boys and girls who are being pushed like pawns into a war that should not and need not be. pray, meditate, love. PEACE

i play literati all the time; it's like the one "action" that transcends the otherwise pervasive paralysis of grief that has gripped me [as i write i thank the writing because i know it signals the loosening of that grip]. at any rate.

yesterday i happened to play with a mother whose only child is with her husband, stationed in germany. the atmosphere is so rancorous toward americans over there that they have been advised to stay on base.

why the hell is this going on?

Tuesday, February 11, 2003
Will there be a sunrise on this mourning?
Nature guarantees one every day
But every day feels just as dark as mourning
Since the night they took my girl away.

Today it rains stays dark the way I feel
As if all of Nature knows my pain
Can I take the spirit’s lessons brought by seagulls?
Will there be a sunrise coming through this rain?

Can I do Now when my heart embraces Always?
Do the seagulls really speak to me?
Will there be a sunrise on this mourning?
Is Hope as Forever as your memory?

It feels like I could weep til sunrises cease.
As if I could cry until Heaven gave up light
Like Grief became my own identity,
And mornings are just mockeries of light.

Girl I am looking for the answer
I think I may just be seeking me
You are over there and in my heart and Always
Always you will be…will I be?

Will there be a sunrise on this mourning?

it's the middle of the night, and it's pouring rain outside in the hottest winter of my life. forgive this.

maybe i'll turn the tv off today, and turn a corner. maybe it will stop raining after today.

i need my strength, i need some energy. positive energy. positive positive energy energy.

i know if i could make my way to the water the waves would still be hitting the shore over and over.

i notice again, i'm breathing. i gasp again because bekah! is not.

okay. okay. that's enough of that for now.

the car? just police being pigs. nothing new. here's another poem i wrote in 1997:

I Still am Me

Though cruelty has displayed
Its face to me.
Though deception has played
Me like a cheap drum.
Though solitude has made
A hermit of me,
And the powers that be
Have their way with me.

Although I cry uncontrollably
Though I rage occasionally
I did not surrender willingly –
Or will not, when
They come for me –
When they throw the cuffs on me
And charge me with divorce and poverty
Though I know they only look down at me

They will not unseat my soul
They cannot erase the truth, which I know –
Their fire burns and scars
Even their words and looks.
I have committed and created my own set of books
Inside myself, remembering
My own goodness, the accomplishments
That are solid inside their diminishment

Who ARE they? Not you and me.
Bureaucracy, DMV, the local PD
Run amok: the 21st century
Looms looking mostly scary and ugly
To Court-worn, manless mothers like me.
I rise above the money they liened from me,
Maintain faith in what they will not see,
And celebrate that I still am me.

Friday, February 07, 2003
Police Department
ok, i call 310-524-2200 to get the information i need to get my car back, since they took it last night....

Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Personality Quiz - What Poetry Form Am I?

I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled;
Not prone to overstated gushing praise
Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled
With overstretched opinions to rephrase;
But on the other hand, not fond of fools,
And thus, not fond of people, on the whole;
And holding to the sound and useful rules,
Not those that seek unjustified control.
I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least,
I think I am, and usually I'm right);
And when more ostentatious types have ceased,
I'm still around, and doing, still, alright.
In short, I'm calm and rational and stable -
Or, well, I am, as much as I am able.
What Poetry Form Are You?

sorry i hate quizzes, but hell - poetry form? had to do that one :)

Do Your Own Numerology Reading; Start here.

Rory is a 7. My parents were both 3's, and did not, unfortunately, fulfill their potential in life...
Micah is a 6. Tyler is a 1, just like his dad.

Sunday, February 02, 2003

What Is Your Animal Personality?
brought to you by Quizilla

wPhotoBlog2: I wish...
send wken a picture and maybe win $50

Bekah Zask

High Water
George Partington turns 40 today. He's developed into a fine writer over the past 4 decades

Do Your Own Numerology Reading; Start here.
John's destiny number is 1; Denise and Andy are both 11's.
remarkably accurate personality profiles. i think i'm starting to believe that there is definitely something to this numerology stuff.

Saturday, February 01, 2003
ThoughtCafe - Afterlife, Prelife, Everlife
As of today, I am planning to title the book i hope to publish An Amateur Mourning Map for Mothers of the Recently Murdered, [subtitle A Book of Bereavement] which is also the title of a poem written not long after Bekah's death. I've let the book sit for a few months and now i think it's time to see about completing it, cleaning it up, getting it to where a publisher might be willing to print it. The following is the first chapter and is a letter i wrote to Bekah just a little over a month after she died.
Comments are more than welcome. Thank you

Afterlife, Prelife, Everlife

"Give Sorrow Words; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'er fraught heart and bids it break."

-William Shakespeare

8-22-01 5:15 am

Hi Bekah, I’ve been up for 45 minutes or so – got a good sleep. Guess my body is preparing for tomorrow – when I return to the office. I don’t want to. But I will – Rory needs for me to do that. Be with me often sweetie. amen

I’ve been, not for the first time, writing my statement. Just in my head. I will turn the pain and bitterness toward its rightful owner and drive it into her as eloquently as I am able. I will not forgive her – certainly not to her face. But I will give her the means to earn that forgiveness – by doing her time. No appeal. She is a murderer; she needs to go away. If she doesn’t go away she will likely kill again – that she never killed before I believe is only because the opportunity never presented itself.

(I’m not going to wail Why did her opportunity mean BEKAH! not going to torment myself with why today)

I will tell her that she exemplifies my belief that bitterness allowed infects one from the inside. That hers turned her into a mentally ill, severely alcoholic, murderer. That she saw you – A beautiful 21-year-old woman – standing at the threshold of a happy, fulfilled life, and she could not stand it. She killed you and she MEANT to kill you. Whether she ever admits it out loud or not. That the depravity of her actions before and after my daughter’s murder prove the truth of this claim.

She drove out of her lane on a straight, flat, well-lit stretch of road to kill a young innocent woman who should NOT be dead. Then drove home over dark and winding roads without incident and went to bed. She never stopped. Never tried to stop. Thought she got away with it. Pled INNOCENT when it is abundantly, overwhelmingly clear that she is guilty of murder. Bailed out of jail and has been FREE while Bekah has continued to be dead.

Dead is forever. Bekah’s loved ones will struggle with not only the finality of her death for years to come. They are and will continue to be shocked, horrified and grieved at the injustice of her death. At the violence of her death. At the gruesome bloodiness of her death.

You left my daughter’s BRAINS in the street. How could you keep driving? How could you sleep? How do you now?

I do not sleep much, or well. That is because I miss my daughter so desperately it is nearly unbearable. It cannot be described – I am utterly helpless to bring her back.

And then, to get out of jail. To do all of this to avoid going to prison. If you had driven away from Bekah’s broken and bleeding body that night and kept going off a cliff into the ocean I might believe that you did not mean to kill her. But you didn’t. You are a coward as well as a murderer. You need to go away.

Okay that’s a start. Bek, between you and me and the wee hours’ darkness slowly turning to light, I believe I have come far since July 19. Learned much; expressed it fairly well. I really want to put it together honey – I read the boards every day, and I can see that many victims’ mothers are in danger of being consumed by their bitterness and hatred. What I have learned and expressed may help them move beyond that.

It may sound as if I think I have achieved recovery or closure. But that is not even what it is. I have only achieved acceptance of the fact that I am in a terrible place, through which I must travel if I do not want to stay here for the rest of my life.

What I haven’t achieved is a clear view of how long I must stay here, how long the dark road is. How strong my psyche’s legs are to carry me through all in one piece.

That is where the hardship – “all in one piece.” How can I be when my heart has been ground up, run over, killed, and left in the road all alone? Bekah. You are my heart, you were my heart, how can it be? I want you so goddam hard I just do.

I am still waiting to see you. I’m calmer. When you do come I will take it as a sign that I am that much calmer still. You know best. Though I remain somewhat baffled as to exactly why I cannot see you NOW while my desire is so nearly desperate? Isn’t it NOW that I need you?

The vagaries of life, death, love and motherhood/daughterhood still largely mysterious. You grew from a microscopic zygote to a human infant inside my body. For eight months you thrived on my milk. For fourteen years you were raised in my home. We were apart when my life exploded. Christ I missed you so constantly and desperately Bekah – I know I told you I did. Did you ever appreciate how true it was? Now I must miss you even more desperately for all of the rest of my life.

Not fair. And my loss is just a fraction of yours. Is there mourning over there? It is imparted by psychic mediums that you are in a place of luscious serenity. That moviemaker Andy’s into says dead people spend most of their time watching live people. It seems you must also miss us. Therefore your murder means you have lost so many people.

You loved much Bekah. From Grandma Blanche to Grandma Marie to me to you, to end when you are only 21. Aunt Carolyn, Michelle, her three daughters, insure that our feminine lineage continues. It’s not the same to me, but maybe to Grandmas Blanche and Marie it works. It is at any rate a heritage of love, a family fortune of love that has made us rich and kept us strong for generations. “May the circle, be unbroken…”

No. The circle is broken. You are murdered. Destiny is interrupted. Fate took a wrong turn. A generation, your children, are denied. We want to find the means to rectify…in my skin with all my faults I seek knowledge of the afterlife, the prelife, the everlife. I can surmise. Can I dare to believe? or bear not to…I have to wait to find out, to really be with you. In the meantime baby help me be strong, to keep Rory happy, to help Andy get there too.

My one and only daughter Bekah – I cannot express! – how much I love you. amen


© barbara bales, 2003, All Rights Reserved.

Do Your Own Numerology Reading; Start here.

Bekah's Life Path, or Destiny Number, is 22
Mine is 9

The descriptions for both of us are just right on the money [in my case, right on the lack of money]. with this calculator in seconds you can find out your destiny number and read the personality profile for it. it is really cool.

Who am i, what am i
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I stand on the sand, and I'm rocking grief to sleep in my arms.

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