...Journal entry...

Hello to those who Read,

I have judiciously been walking the "duck pond" for 3 days running; yesterday I left for the task in the midst of a thunder, and or lightning storm with "true warnings" posted. Indeed not being a West Texan that does not affect me in the least. In short I have been hit by lightning while with the first "husband" back in Virginia--meaning lightning struck the front of our large Dutch Colonial (needed 5 bedrooms with 5 girls yes another day and blog...), and I in the back in my office went to yank the plug on my PC (IBM at the time) and was literally thrown across the room, and emerged with a blackened and painful hand. Not to mention it fried my hard drive but that was in the day of "good home owners insurance" that allowed full replacement value...

Stopped at Family Dollar for really I need to picket Albertsons for their overpriced "anything" it's a rotten shame that you can go to "Wally World" and pay half or LESS for groceries, however, there is a constant barrage or crowd of anyone at anytime, and in my recent months health has prohibited me barely driving without thinking I'd collapse. Those who know and love me know how bad it's been, those who are getting to know me, think "they know" and inference is not proven until tried by jury...This stated for someone who needs to know...

I am a professional nurse; injured in 1998 and getting a very rare pain disorder (RSD now called CRPS) and mine became systemic (very rare) and it is end-stage. The pain has been researched on the McGill scale at 82 times worse pain then end-stage cancer, and I will continue on pain management for life due to this, and 40 other autoimmune disorders also resulting from the injury. I then had a serious decline in the past 2 years; wasting K+ (potassium) which is the ion the most important one that carries electrical impulses to the heart. I have suffered some new diagnoses and they are ones I cannot dwell on today, or I will die just from the weight of the massive medical history I carry like an albatross upon my back. I am frail enough without the two ton weight added to me, and at five nine, only weigh now 110 pounds which is a 30 pound weight GAIN ,since I married my second and third husband, Luke... They found the pain literally was devouring my body weight and even consuming 5,000 kcals a day did NOT keep me above 84 pounds. They had to work on my pain medications and one old time drug was added to the mix (and man do I take a mix to live for my sympathetic nervous system is about shot now aka SNS), so that is part of me, who I am...

Run pain support lists and have been giving back that way since my injury. I have referred thousands for pain management around the world; yes world--including England, Canada, and the good old U.S.A.

There is more of me but I am as yet "used to" this type of blog in fact I hate it you cannot underline, you cannot indent, et al. Irritating to me at best.

Wishing all readers,

A good day, and some peace...

Karen G.

Addendum 5:50 p.m. CST

Did my 4th round today; there were men out there trimming the grass, and it was hellish hot with an odd south wind blowing (almost knocked me down as I circled facing downtown Midland (what a view yeh right), but just wanted to say how "cruel" people can be on the internet...I made comments to a friend of mine who has a blog, and logged on to read and saw some truly sick commentary made--about me--someone without the balls to write a name either...Sad but true...I had responded to a cute post about his lovely dogs titled "Nurse Wanted" and then today he apparently changed the title to "An Apple a Day" and I'm not an apple, am a nurse...He seems like such a nice man, so certainly he would not write such trash, however, it is eerie how those who cannot face themselves in the mirror will take a stab at someone who can, does, and will...

Peace Out!

....Love is not Cotton Candy....

Love Is Cotton Candy
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 17th, 2006

Soft and lavender pink, touch my tongue, pseudo sweet, this cloud
On a stick of twirled paper, entices the clouds behind me billowing
Fat, full, pregnant with the light weight of moments to come, this
Landscape cannot remain, changing it moves with rapid force, we
Forget to stare, let it seep deep, in that blue cyanotic heart, that is
Lacking life, oxygen flows again into me, "breathe deep"

Tonight the angel sleeps, hand curled like a child
Tender fist unclasps as God takes her home, to a
Subtle yet safe place, this white room with no ceiling
Where all the sky points downward in loving caress

Still the carnival is in town, the rides are broken, worn chains strike
Fear in the crowd, who line up and the sweat stains mar their cotton
Shirts, as they wait for their turn to collide with the cold black asphalt
Neon lights shine, the synchronization of time and elements elapsed
Big Ben chimes an ocean away, in a foreign place where dainty drizzle
Settles like serenity on the skin of a newborn child, we hold hands

Skip a place in line, stare deeply into one another's
Eyes only to walk away, hand in hand, to the car
A ride to the desert plain where prairie dogs sleep
Predator coyote stalks the scent of blood, we wait

Old woman hobbles out to hang cotton shirts on the line, the faint odor
Of bleach sifts into the fresh morning air, arthritis tenders her aging joints
Pain is a day at a time, her apron was bright red, now faded to dull pink
The wings of her past gently lift her up, she hangs one clothes pin at a
Time feeling the kiss of her children on her weathered cheek, this is
Love at no cost, no pirate will rob you of this memory, embedded within...

Heart of gold (24 karat) is meshed within the chain link fence, prison bars
Stand forcibly tall, the sweat of former inmates sickens the inner wall of
A stomach filled with cheap carbohydrates, there is no life behind the
Wall of the chain, shackled with force, primed to "do it all over again"
Blame "me" as "he" can, and don't come back, find the humid shoreline
Quick fix, and the black night of the shoreline is dead still, "don't wait"

I like your words, coming from intellect, they are
Metered with faint sprinkles of emotion, at times
Your eyes allow entry, my child wants to come in
This storm is the final curtain call, (does he know)

The sun is creeping through a week of storms, asking for forgiveness
Clearance through the misty and heavy weighted clouds, there is simple
Joy in seeing the dry heat, for August spills the hope for fall nights
Wrapped under a down comforter, windows cracked, by noon the next
Day the summer heat returns, but the sun smaller by season, the light
Tinted with touches of blue, there is a place you might rest, come in

The boy wears his baseball cap backwards, wanting
Them to accept him, ask him over, he wants a friend
Mother died, father left, and Grandma is getting tired
She smiles with love, but she will sleep one day

Walking downtown, there are scattered memories of a time before the
"Boom," and the man with a tin cup died forty years ago, the town
Buried him for free, a simple stone marks his head, he is still living
Popcorn at the movie theater, high school couples on a Friday night
(Tell me more) and the chiffon painted lime green on her prom gown
He tries the "first kiss" and she giggles, a drink of bathtub gin...

Test the moon, it is bitterly full, burgeoning like a pregnant cow, the
Birth pains begin, and she shudders with full force as the contractions
Take her body by surprise, she moans, and life is filling her womb and
Leaving her weak, compromised, this entry into the fold of mankind
Beats the chimes of money in the pocket, milk and meat, as God
States the animals are but for the fitness of the sinners who populate

Earth as HE created it in seven days
Sunday the day of rest, and the fairy
Sprinkles dust in the eyes of Adam as
He desires more, and the brutality begins

The children are at recess, skipping rope, the boys play kick ball
Ruddy sun tanned skin, happy countenance, blue, brown, and black
Eyes dancing in merriment, their innocence is true, and they won't
Know the skate of the death walk, till Mommy and Daddy embed
Their heart with grey stone, and fear will be the catalyst to "not be"
What HE intended, oh dance in circles my heart, escape the fate

I board the jet, still talking on a cell phone
Flight attendant motions "to turn off phones"
Whisper I "good bye" and the un-maintained
Jet struggles to climb to 10,000 feet and an

Engine stops dead, a drop of 3,000 feet straight down, and the old
Woman will hang her clothes (no more), and the businessman seated
Next to her remembers briefly making love to his wife at dawn, and
The co-pilot is young, he barely shaves the peach fuzz off his chin
The desert beckons as the pumps become recklessly evident to all
Sitting on the left side as their windows crack, air pressure gone, explosion


Was it worth it, sweet opera singer play for me
High soprano solo, the song of ending, and my
Tongue traces the last vestige of cotton candy
Will you take me to the fair again?
I promise to go on the rides...I do...

Me, Karen

...RIDDLE by Five for Fighting....

"Five for Fighting"
THE RIDDLE
You can listen on my space link...
http://www.myspace.com/karensikorskygeorgebsrn


The Riddle
"Five for Fighting..."

There was a man back in 95
Whose heart ran out of summers
But before he died, I asked him

Wait what's the sense in life
Come over me, Come over me

He said,

Son why you got to sing that tune
Catch a Dylan song, or some eclipse of the moon
Let an angel swing and make you swoon
Then you will see...You will see

Then he said,

Here's a riddle for you
Find the answer
There's a reason for the world
You and I....

Picked up my kid from school today

Did you learn anything 'cause in the world today
You can't live in a castle far away
Now talk to me, talk to me

He said,

Dad I'm big but we're smaller than small
In the scheme of things, well we're nothing at all
Still every mother's child sings a lonely song
So play with me, come play with me

And hey Dad
Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer
There's a reason for the world
You and I....

I said,

Son for all I've told you
When you get right down to the
Reason for the world...
Who am I?

There are secrets taht we still have left to find
There have been mysteries from the beginning of time
There are answers we're not wise enough to see

He said...You looking for a clue I Love You free...

The batter swings and the summer flies
As I look into my angel's eyes
A song plays on while the moon is hiding over me
Something comes over me

I guess we're big and I guess we're small
If you think about it man you know we got it all
'Cause we're all we got on this bouncing ball
And I love you free
I love you freely

Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer
There's a reason for the world
You and I....

Photo by Karen G. 8-15-2006

...Too sweet is Pepsi....

Pepsi Cola
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 15th, 2006

Syrup, so sweet, the gag erupts somewhere in my throat, the ice
Melts again, the straw floats in that glass I like with black designs
I hate Pepsi, there is no slice of lemon, squeezed drops of bitter
Taste to adhere to my tongue--throw it away, rinse it down the
Stainless steel sink, the crater of thirst is a void I cannot fill the
Lion roars on a television set in your living room, the silence is

Living aloud in a church where the choir is humming
Like a bunch of buzzing bees, the old women with
Blue grey hair, coifed into hairdo's from the years we
We born, the snakes are curling tight to strike behind

The pews, and the pastor is ranting about sinners, he zips his fly
He has done the girl who baby sits his children, she remains unpaid
His wife is frigid ice, she is cold, she is slender, and cooks poorly
He thinks he is God, with his round fat belly, stooping over his worn
BVD's his sensuality rating is zero, but his two inch peter is popped
Worn from the infidelity he preaches "not" he is filled with old rum

Little girl your daddy is uneducated, his parents paid
His way through seminary, marijuana was his like and
Sugar coated doughnuts filled his big old stomach do
You run from him when he tucks you in at night, your

Mother so pretty and blonde quit school the same year, he plied
Her with his speech of love, she fell like a new foal on unsteady legs
Teetering into a Christian land of Oz, and Dorothy loaned her the
Ruby red slippers, oh they sparkled and glowed on her wedding night
The poppy field is the bed she lies on today, alone in this masonry
The temple of the living, pass the plate, green smelly bills are in it..

Tonight a birthday song is played in an eatery north of here, the ride
Is endless, you drive the speed limit, cruising past that lake where
Mosquitos bit our ankles (naked) we lay in innocent light, the moon
Did not feed our emotional expression, fat tender lips kiss, kiss some
More, and the rest became a volume of experience, today we celebrate
The day of life you became human, Happy Birthday to you, the candle

Burns and the place is a cave, southwest of Mexico
The foreign language is gentle, spoken in sleeping tones
The people are brown, they miss you peeking out from
A corner of time into their today, so alone you are

Lavender roses are budding in the New Jersey estate, south of Newark
A road of memories, my girls are born one by one, we sit beside the
Brick fireplace, in the middle of this February blizzard, feeling the heat
Nip our frostbit hands, we are hungry and our reddened cheeks speak
Winter is in us, it is living like a huge ice core burning our heart to
Stone, when the defrost comes, and we melt in wet tears, we shame

Hands pulling out weeds, so vigorous, summer is birth
Will it end, will the long tendrils of actions demanded stop
Can you edit the weakness of a heart that burns with hate
Tied to the stake you are, Jesus Christ had a cross not you

Climbing higher, legs hurt from the miles walked, the water is gone
Thirst enters me again, you hand me a Pepsi it is lukewarm, no straw
I start to say "no" and accept it, pop the can open, drink deeply and
Nothing is sweet, nothing is the same, and that lemon tree is further
Down the path then I am willing to walk (today), and the grey storm
Clouds of a summer yet to come, tells me, love the innocent, he is

One of heart, you might learn
To stare in his eyes, once again...

...Be gone to the gun...

Fell Inside
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 15th, 2006


No one pushed you, over the edge of that cold stone border
The rim crusted with algae, the edges smooth, elbows rest
Looking down to darkness, a scent of old water, the sounds
Just tiny waves on the border of an ocean not met, this deep
Entry way is to earth, a depth of lime, clay, and sordid entity
Drink from the tin cup, haul the bucket higher, she is near

Further down the road, a mule pulls a wagon,
The driver in straw hat, skin darker than sun burn
Life out on the terrain is endless, the end of the
Desert flat indiscernible, even the eagle's eyes

Run from this distance, shut in frustration, so you sit, another
Wasted day, take advantage of the money you do not earn
The bills pile high, and the trash in your head is endless, the
Boundary stops here, if you lean further you might fall deep
Inside the well, and your hollow cry not heard, for you came
To a place uninvited, to visit without invitation, go west go far

She is kind, gentle, like a mother she loves me
Her sisterhood is like a nun, solid, pure and white
Bridal vow within her heart, she is filled with light
The smell of the solitary yellow rose is upon her

Sweet, your words soothe my tired spirit, the destiny bird is
Circling like a curious vulture, awaiting to alight on my brow
Remove all inhibition and dark boundary, he is as effortless
As a turtle after the rain, or the squawking ducks in that
Man-made pond, over there, the walk is endless, but you
Are holding my hand (my heart) and you love me, I do you...

Hold this gun forward, the firing squad awaits the victor
Look at this tall lanky criminal, walking in prison clothes
The grey wall, of well stone is behind him, he peers out of
Tear stained eyes to the ground; the smell of fresh urine
Evaporates before they aim to fire, shoot him down, it
Sure is a waste of bullets, he learns the lesson of

PAIN to others, the vacuum sucks him in, he is on his
Knees begging for mercy, crying out in waste
Using names, roles, and identities that never
Belonged to him, his wife is pregnant she stands

Without expression by the iron gate, departs
Without a wave, there is another man waiting in the car,
He is the father of her firstborn child, this love surpassed
All time--her husband grovels, turns his back, the jailor
Pulls the rope about his waist causing him to stand tall
One does not shoot the prisoner from behind he must learn

Manhood this last second, it is September and the cool
Breeze of night time fills the nostrils of a child
Doing homework, preparing a lesson and yawning
Before bed, his mother tucks him in, and says
His prayers with him, a gentle pink streak
Paints the night time sky, the velvet grey shadows fill the

Spots between, and outside car doors slam, voices laugh
Togetherness is spotted from the highest throne by the
Father (God) and "it is good" HE loves with wild abandon
Allows the countenance of hope to expire in the sinner and
Recuperate in the weary of heart, this soul is boundless...
My new friend is wise, a spot of blue sky

A repetition of faith, embedded in a voice
A man is so, he is or not, but a boy is never
A chain link fence to the frail, the gentle one
Who glows, her energy returns, fresh, to live again...

"Riddle by Five for Fighting..."

I put a song on my (myspace) profile that has opened the tornado that is my past and makes me literally ill the link is above and here http://www.myspace.com/karensikorskygeorgebsrn

The band is Five for Fighting the song "Riddle"

I am a mess...

Karen G

Elephant Ears...

Another entry to all,

It is Monday, filled with boredom lack of vision, blind empty furrows, holes dug by prairie dogs. They do not think or feel. There are large lessons to be learned by this endeavor.

Failings are the root of living a day just one.

I walked for 30 minutes today by the "duck pond" an anomalie in Midland. Ironically that at a brisk pace for 4 times around. Odd it is being around here since 1999, and now being so weak and compromised due to health that walking, becomes a measure of strength.

Can I get out? Can I let go finally? Will I deny the truth, or accept that this is the insane asylum (Midland) and those that tell me otherwise are purely insane?

Peace out!

Proverbial Karen G.

...Midland sky warped views....

...my Midland sky...

...More sky...with effects

"Inside the AnGeL": ...Midland sky....

"Inside the AnGeL": ...Midland sky....

...Midland sky....

...Planet 8...

Tethered
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 14th, 2006

Hitch up your pants, draw together the snap, pull up your fly, and eradicate
The lost village, seeking refuge inside that mind of endless "dream," you encourage
Children to flock about your grassy shrine, (a lawn), and visit your childhood
They take the treats and run away; if you open your bank account they will count
Out your dollar bills, not buy penny candy (as you did in your day,) but call the
Crack dealer (cell phone), the technology of emotions is alive, dwelling deep
In your male instinct--"how could it be" (how could it not), and the bee hive is

Swarming with cross fire, the poison stingers emerge
Biting without vindication, you have entered their home
Threatened them with your live status, your human
Conscience, and whatever dreams die, pegged down like

The circus tent you live in; the formal surroundings, neat--clean, organized do
Not tell the honest truth--confusion abounds in your head, up and down that
Seesaw flies, and you are pounced off the high end, and topple, fall with a slam
Knocking the breath out of you, eyes water (men don't cry) and you wipe them
Dry--she left because there was another man (or two) and her pre menopausal image
Scares her scarred mirror, relieves her anxiety to believe the lie, in another

Not YOU, for you are history relived and proudly you
Walk with firm steps, pre-honest thoughts leading to
"Sometimes honest" actions, even though the children
Surround you seeking someone you are not, you give in...

Candy cane toilet bowl, filled to the brim, this crack house is empty, and your
First try laid you down for a night--"did you fuck your brains out" and feeling
For that limp member between your legs you think "no I would recall" and a
Desolation strikes your heart, the pain in a chest of anxiety reigning terror
Reminds you that this drug is addictive, and you must fight to the end and take
Your bowl of fake cherries, off the clear glass coffee table, mend that shirt

Take the dog for a walk, forget that this West Texas
DESERT plain is less than enticing, that culture exists
Some 2,000 miles away, and the life chosen was only a
Gamble, a day at a time, and you stop DEAD, cry broken tears

Defend, the bitter end, join hands with the children, "ring around the rosey"
WE ALL FALL DOWN, "I" has died, your two ton testicles drop a notch, and
The mirror counts your years one by one until they are journeled, expressed
You are the beautiful man hiding behind the youth of the 70's, the artic chill
Is climbing up your right leg, and FROZEN in today is your destiny, lace upon
Your cheek, her breasts touch you there, and forever you want more, endless pain

"I love you" she says
(What does she really mean)
"Honey I do..."
Give in, this man is on Planet 8...

reading while falling: Sanayeh Park

reading while falling: Sanayeh Park

...I cannot love....

To Test
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky George BS,RN
August 13th, 2006

Anxiety plies me, sweat seeping in tiny bubbles, my forehead
Saturated with a taste of salty brine, no sailor here propped on a
Wooden high back chair, smells of stale coffee, dust tracked in from
The desert plain, vestige of adobe thought, the paper sits white, bare
No words escape to pen, my hand trembles, emptiness like a thin
Balloon pops, and a flood of rain appears, the voice foreign to all
Not you, cries out, "to test me like this"
Walking in a day early, seeing me here in
Bed with yet another man, wanton whore am
I (is she) stripped bare, the smell of sex like
Thick garlic, deep acts of intimacy still appear like fleeting fire flies
The night so still, your face turned to paste--fear fills me a first time
Never to come again (like this), HOME (is where the heart is) and
You LEAVE, (he does too out the back gate), and the dog wags her
Old tail, harboring no hate--the test of time grades me downward
I cannot be of faith (to you), "I love you" means at best an attempt
To be a wife, a friend, a part time lover, for my
Need is so great it fills volumes, and Romeo is
Like weak tea, not big enough, HARD enough
Strong enough in spiritual grace to hold me
Here, take it back (the key) my suitcases are lighter, years of
Running from so many has lightened the load, this stray blonde
Wisp of golden hair has been touched by the devil, and the virgin
Angel you carried over the threshold, a mere figment of a lost mind
(Yours) and there is a ride waiting, destination unplanned this time
My lips yearn yours (take a memory) and photograph you asleep...

Pale pink negligee, now worn out--the touch of breasts, removes
The innocence of first night--laughing we held hands, sat prim beside
The white picket fence, dry air caressing our faces, as anxious lips
Touched--a thousand volts of electricity soared within our chemistry
We became ONE (so you thought), and the gold wedding band
Circle of grace broke evenly in my mind, bizarre, sick I prefer
The dirty act of sexual violence, anyone will do
Sounds of primal anger, flirting with bodies fighting
For one gasp of air (yes in our bed), and lips
Bruised from drowning kisses, furtive beginnings
Repeated sexual acts, performed in all ways, but without love remind
YOU that I was struck down years before we met, and given the
Vision that allows lust to climb higher than love, when the sun
Sets my courage spurs further adventure and tonight is not a test
It is homework, do not gaze at me in disbelief, there is no one man
Who can afford the pain of loving me, here, wear this banner upon
Your chest, your tears are not real, but planned
Trust is never here within me, so how could you
Blame me, you were not due home tonight and
Yet it is easier for me to skip at age seven years
Down the path waving good bye, whether I got to school or play
Games beside the railroad track, or desire what I will never speak
Forgive me this one failure, my average is better as time goes by
It is you I love, and you have left me to leave you, given me cause
Texas divorce is fast, eight weeks, "all done" and you might find
A stupid maiden who will lie to you, and spread her wings, celibate...

To test is a failure
You found me here a day early
Pray tell, you came too late...

...Stench of airwaves...

Vapid Air Wave (the stench can kill....)
Vapid Air Wave
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
June 15th, 2006


Somewhere a cocker spaniel slobbered, and the drool caused me to vomit
Thinking he might lick my hand, leaving behind a trail of ooze that I might
Recall even after scrubbing my hands vigorously, and treading away into the
Dead of night alone, for isolation is my play mate, and the children in your
Sandbox destroyed the mood by their garish cries, muffled by their mother's
Disciplining them with verbal assault, that little boy escaped and ran away
He is now grown, hanging on a street corner, acting as if
The sunlight does not fade his shirt, unwashed face, a stubble
Growing on his chin, and the youth of this generation lacks
Dexterity to read the book written upon the clouds, and say
"I am back to do this right" who cares, it becomes clear, and loud that the
Greatest waste of mankind is concern over the end result of the means, and
Giving birth is a physical act of violence, the train stops here, and if you sneak
In the toilet, and the bell clangs, and the conductor is short staffed, you might
Ride for free, and end up in another town, where your face and presence
Might give you away, and when you lose that last job, and the flop house
Door slams behind you, there is nowhere left to go but here
Spread out in the green meadow on a bright spring day, a
Random Easter egg is found rotting from years of stagnant
Inertia, behind the poplar tree, the smell again nauseates me
A beating heart stops and goes, in rhythm, how many out there have the
Exact chorus pounding in their chest, and have lost the innocence of the
Purest child, the memory gone, burned out by the acid test, and today's
Headlines proclaim that the clock will strike one, each day, and the life
Lived is truly gone, washed down the sewer drain, and someday they might
Find your remains like that Easter egg, behind some other garbage, waiting...

Hope is a constipated wish of the innately stupid, to think that perhaps another
Can guide them to the cherry tree, where they might rest, and sit eating fruit
That is sweet, but sticky, and that field mice are safe, and snakes only wiggle
Past to wave hello, be it so that if you cannot find a smiling face down there
In the large city to the left, then you can remain alone, pillaging and eating
From garbage cans, a scavenger you become by default, and that nasty drunk
Laying in the gutter smelling of strong urine is your friend
It might be time to travel back to the east coast and recall
The past before you die, journal and log as a historian the
Events without emotion, and say good bye to the fruit of your
Womb, who are now graced with their nightmares of living a day to day life
Making a living, being with men who are degraders, pulling their red wagon
Down to the railroad tracks thinking they might enter a freight car, and find
A new way to live just down the road, a town where old men sit on barrels
Outside the country store, do not raise a hand to hit a woman or child
Make due on the labor of one crop a year, eat eggs, and belt a drink one time
Not daily, and never drink pop from a can, but sip a cold soda
From a straw, and know that an ice cream cone is a treat
That air conditioning does not cool you down, but that
When the sun goes down, the day ends, and rest comes
I am pushing myself backward into the cave, the world I know best, where
No one enters, walks, breathes or comes without invitation, and the ugly
Part can thrive openly, howl at the moon, and be sheltered by the walls
Wet soil, a trickle of stream enters, the smell is one you must get used to
Drowning is not an option, and somewhere a baby cries, another life born
Death seems a glory, HE never turns against me, but I against HE, God is here...

Ten tear drops fall, one touches my lips
The taste of salt new, unfeeling am I but then
Why do the tears fall like rain, and I see that always
I am alone, deep within me...

..Armpit of America (Louisiana)...

Piss Pot
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
June 15th, 2006

Driving past the children, playing by that swamp, the armpit of America reeks
Hurricane publicity sent them running, with assistance to states far and wide
For the first time they ate regular meals, felt air conditioning on their sticky
Dry, and damaged skin, for being born in a shack, in New Orleans where spells
Sex, and poverty, rage like the stinking sulfur smell in Seacaucus, New Jersey
Makes your wealth pass the millions, and your knowledge of the alphabet
A doctorate in life, they run and fan like flames, children were
Raped during the storm by their own kind, is incest the new
Means of procreation, is this now West Virginia, can you hop
On Daddy's knee, take a toke off his corn cob pipe, and then
Pull your white cotton panties off, as he shows you his sausage, which is ugly
Hurts, and sears that virginal flesh to smithereens, how many children were
Conceived during the latest legacy of poverty, stench, and wicked life beyond
The bayou, and the wealthy poured into Baton Rouge demanding the best
Begging for mercy, some say God speaks in actions, so we see the end of sin
There in the deep south, where children are born with whiskey in their bottle
They talk funny, eat spicy food, drink bourbon like water, and do
Odd things, men with men, women with women, and never could I
Put that apron about my waist, and sit quietly while you drove out
On a Saturday night to get loaded, expecting me to be there silent
I hate the railroad tracks, the look of sour stomachs in the eyes of middle
Aged men who push a "buggy" at the grocery store for their fat wives seeping
Cellulite from worn out thighs, and somehow by the age of 25 they are dying
The pollution is strong, the rate of cancer high, and the only alligator left went
To Florida where the wages are higher, and a day's work is paid, the power goes
Out when it drizzles, and the rain is coming day in and day out, this the jungle...

Right now I am ending bad beginnings, no longer do I run away, but face the
Pictures lined up in my mind, days that were not happy, times that were filled
With fear, people I do not know to this day, but lived with due to situations
Beyond the scope of justice, the theft and rape of material wealth is but one
Crime, the taking of children from their mother the worst, and making them
Believe the LIE the ultimate sin, it is clear I will not see their father where I go
No day will come when my heart will love again, there is only
Myself staring at God (face to face) knowing now after all this
Time I trust HIM 100%, and the rest of mankind is no better than
Poverty level morons begging for a crumb and a free ride from
The gates of hell they built, the years of sin, sex, and theft of being, and today
My mind is on the existential plain, the long and flat highway of self conceit, and
Rather live within me, then outside with you, so take your cell phone and bury
It deep in your pants pocket, let the battery die, and with that the thought of me
Burrowed deep in that heart a memory of a woman you cannot have
Know she is gone, she died last night, and was absorbed by one sole star
A million light years away, and yes the moon is made of green cheese
Pestilence has grown and today's vipers are diseases like HIV, Hepatitis
The earth is no longer fertile, and the fetid breath of a stinking
Warlock from Mars is your chant of love, marriage, and happiness
Go fuck yourself, with your uncircumcised member, tucked into those dirty jeans
Forget to shave for three or four days, and let the grease of your skin mix
With the sweat of your daily toil, when you awaken on caked sheets, spent with
Human death, then you will know the animal you are (and I cannot be) and the
Woman spinning off in her German sports car at 150 mph has won the race
Shifting into sixth (the black cloud descends) and time has told the tale....

Take your million in dirt, and call it wealth
Take the green from your burgeoning bank account
To a hole out back near the swamp, for I dare you to
Jump in the quicksand, and sink, back where you belong
I love you, now good bye...

...for those who came from within my womb...

Wrapped Weeds
for my children...
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
June 19th, 2006

The tower collided with the shopping cart, and the bags of wasted leisure fell and
Splattered like old paint left in an open can, colors of timid furor lay on the hot
Concrete, and the asphalt bubbled BLACK in the summer death watch, and the steam
Settled, spread, and lifted to the sky, there is no peace at the end, and the time has
Come to rid your garden of the weeds, which are wrapping about my throat like
Indonesian cheap rope, spliced and irritating to touch, you did not know it but
Gone is my good bye, the words of refuge, and hate
Tonight the stars will twinkle in a new sky that is eased of
My tears, hurt, and hardship--the loss of the children is their
Ending, and their patriarch is going to watch their faces fall
Like snowflakes in the desert, "they" melt and never fail to question him-- no answer
He sunk the ship, and drowning without a life preserver, he lived a LIE of hate
The men around him laughed at his cheap antics, and the women of prestige scorned
His advances for he never meant a thing, to anyone, but the Creator, took the
Gift and attempted to suffocate his wife, children, and reap the gains of emptiness now
Let him see the rosebush bloom and die, to remember the years of life destroyed
There is no prison dark enough for his seclusion or
No house big enough for him to live, there is no refrigerator
Filled with food for his starvation, or a lake bearing fish for him
To catch, there is no beginning for the ending, for the weeds thrive
Flourish, and wrap around his neck, and the cow waddling in the pasture is a soft
Reminder of a promise made, that simple life, "till death do us part" that statement
Of faith, trust, and eternal love now empty of it's vow, and the church bells are
Ringing on a day I will never see, the prayers are spoken in reverence by faces
Mouths and eyes, that do not mean "I love you" and live this life, in care, just a strong
Word of truth, it all is gone, and the ice cream truck slowly passes, this hot summer day...

The phone rings, no answer, a prison cell locks, why do they all give up when
Two strong legs hold their form solid on God's ground, why do they take a life
Meant to live, escape a promise made, educate themselves in revulsion, and miss the
Gentle first kiss of new love, and respect is just a four letter word written in
Graffiti on a crack house wall, then fuck yourself first, before others, for the day will
Come when oatmeal is not nutrition, a mother's touch is long gone, she is dead
Give birth again and again, until the clock strikes and you are
Tired of nursing babies at the breast, and that man next to you
Is a pall bearer at a funeral (it could be yours), and sex is just
Like taking a leak, not even slow, relaxed, and kind, brutal ending
Rape is not just generic for all that is pure, simple, and white as new snow, it is ending
For the foot steps have pierced your body laying lifeless on the floor, a plow horse
Is better treated, and knows less pain than a man crying for his lost love at the end of
A half year wait (she is gone today), and tomorrow's sunset is the end of a day
O ne less person in bondage on this earth so small, and the cab fare from the hospital
Was reasonable, but the emptiness of being without a friend is eternal, a burning flame
Dress carefully for you might be on view by many for even
A pauper's grave draws attraction when reality sets in and then
Word of mouth brings those you did not expect to lead the way
Down this violet path to wave good bye, say "she was my friend"
Giant LIES fill this swimming pool behind the millionaire's home, like ice cubes sitting
Unable to melt, bodies of human life are easily seen this last night, intolerable waste
The "if only's" have ended, and a single poem remains written by a Greek man with
Vision (George Seferis) and the olive branch is not fragrant to those who cannot see
The truth, out beyond the last sea of salt, somewhere in a valley of strangers, there is
No more pain, there is a plan made, and to start the engine and drive away leaves

Ample grass in your back yard
Laughter from a female child's mouth as she
Splashes in the pool, suntanned, happy and then she
Cries out "Mommy I love you..."
Those words escape me for I am finally dead...

...Grape....

Popsicle Girl
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
July 2nd, 2006

The paper, it is sticky, white, letters muted, like the sound of a freight train in the
Distance, pushing over hot rails to a distant plain, a powerful meadow in the north of
France, or even in Western Pennsylvania, if it were not for the way you are when you
Are born, somewhere (anywhere) then familiar answers, places, and smells, will
Not assault your senses, drop the rational solution for a problem nonexistent; you
Drip as it melts, you slide onto skin, a greedy tongue hungry for cold, you are
Hungry for the base instinct, satiated easily, but for a moment
By a taste of orange, grape, synthetic cherry, and the flavors are
Telling you slow down, relax, and let me come within you, like a
Man comes to take his bride, in days of old, the history book slams
Shut the door; it opens, and you are home (again), dark hair sending a rush of dark
Memory, sexual pleasure, laughter in the morning, or late at night when the television
Tempts our eyes, but warm (then hot) skin demands our attention, and we give in to
See who will win the battle of sensual output, you have challenged me on all levels
Do you remember the first night you kissed me, and the stars dropped from that
Black velvet sky like rain, inside my heart which was beating in straight time, in you...
French toast at ten at night, is sweeter than breakfast, no coffee to
Wash it down, we drink Coke with lemon and lots of ice, it is amazing
You remember the small happiness we share, now slip off your shoes
The stickers on the West Texas plain will not penetrate our feet, and
We can walk hand in hand in this dry, soothing breeze, fluttering upon our skin to
Encourage the emotions you asked me to give, that you saw building like a torrential
Rain deep in my heart, the first time you went, the geyser blew, I swore I could never
Love again, yet I was in awe of the truth (yes I do love him) and yet the lies of our
WEAKNESS burned our hearts, like singed war songs in a Gothic battle, before our
Birth, do you remember we were given forever in marriage, until death do us part?

May I have this pearl tipped cane, the handle intrigues me, it is glamorous and yet
Sensually appealing, now it is mine, and I hold the handle, walk a few steps and see
A woman in the mirror unable to stand, she is gentle in spirit, and her eyes reach out
To touch my soul, and the pain is deep blue, with black flecks where death has crept
In deep, (so very deep), and the penetration is too severe, "who is this" I exclaim, and
Your loving eyes fill me with sympathy, in moments the cane is broken into a thousand
Wood shard pieces, and the mirror is cracked and foreign
Looking as if a bomb hit, and the vision remains of ANGER
Revulsion, disgust of inadequacy, and you are murmuring
My name "Honey don't, Karen come back" and she is gone
Running ten miles a day it is 1985, she is pounding the grey cement sidewalks in the
Winter in New Jersey, the cold steam billows from her nostrils, she is FREE of the
House, the wifely duties for her 55 minutes of self hell, battling the muscles, all body
Fat wasted, she is lean, sinewy like an athlete trained (and she is) for the marathon
Collapsed at the end, on the pavement, her husband picks her up muttering in his
Unhappy voice as he is forced (on a Sunday) to spend the morning in the emergency
Room somewhere years away it began, never ended, and the
Purging of mankind from her brutalized soul was constan,t she
Bore down giving emotional birth to a perfusion of wants, needs
Never emotions or desires, piling logs of patience on a slow burning
Fire, deep in her heart, where she remains isolated, alone, and PAIN is just a four letter
Word (like FUCK), and when she finds she can stand up, face the unusual music
Blaring from some Indian radio station in Istanbul, she might accept, no matter how
Far she travels, she is here, painting with airbrush strokes, the platitudes of the
Nothingness built in empty blocks upon her life, which towers like a ten story building
Looming in angst, "you are not here Luke where can you be" and the clock strikes ten...

Dramatic romance, women in ball gowns tiptoe gently down the stairs of a castle
There is a king, a young prince, and maidens freshly scrubbed, their faces powdered
In white, deep eyes of violet, some brown, and one with deep blue, cascade like
Tear drops the ball room night, and the manly scent of cold night air assails them
Fragile ladies in waiting, can faint at the slightest inconvenience, and the wanton whore
Remains within their spirit, waiting for the wedding night where virginity ends that one
Dark drop of blood entitles them to a legacy, giving birth
To the next prince or princess, being held at distance by a
Man willing to get down and dirty in a hovel with a big breasted
Wench who reeks of stale beer, the sperm of many to taste
On her tongue in twilight kiss, who would think to accept this, but the primal instinct
Remains the driving force of all people who populate the earth today; the original sin
Placated, downgraded, ignored, and compensated for, when we read the Word do we
Live the outcome, or hear HIS sweet voice in love guiding us onward to the end where
Everlasting life can occur, simple stair steps to heaven, transition from earth to life
You can lay down beside me, you will never be still until you touch, taste, have me
Take that elementary bank book, this stationary rental home, and the
Imaginary river, build that large, cold mountain; climb it until your calf
Muscles burn in pain, attempt to reach the top (without me) and then
Your eyes go blind, and the salt of your tears are like battery acid
Go now, find this truth, eat simply and do not close your eyes again, for God has
Spoken firmly telling us the next right behavior, and now my trembling heart bleeds
For you, lost among three thousand maniac men, you never were a criminal, and
Life beckons us "come forth" and I get in the car, shift into gear, bear down on the
Gas peddle, and soar with intent down the highway of our discontent, floating
Surreally, with great beauty, upon the bed, where I wait for you to enter, me, again...

Be not of little faith, but strong heart
Allow yourself to enter for the doorway
Is hidden, and the key will not fit this lock
Ever again, I love you now, be still...

....Weed.....

Rot Weed....
Rot Weed
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
July 25th, 2006

The coffee is old, rank, the taste punishes me; the isolation of life is made worse
By the habits of most, being lost, in this valley of creation, the world known to me
Is superior to acceptance of abuse in all forms--either drinking rancid brew
To take a beating, a rape, or sub-standard truth--dishonesty, and lies are murder
The firing squad waits patiently, for the weakest of all (mankind) will give in
Death is a shadow caught in the late afternoon light, do not turn--face it, give in
Laying face down on the battle field, pretending death is difficult
Still, hands out turned, legs twisted at an angle (as if shot in the head)
The blood of my brother smeared across my child's face, the enemy
Walks by in full force, energy steaming like volcanic heat, they pass
Left here, the night comes, my bladder full I piss in the weeds, knowing if I were a
Man I could stand tall, and empty; being a woman causes me to squat, lower
Myself to the ground, birds fly heaven up to the bulging clouds of white, the
Trees tower reaching to God, upper most branches are hands held to the purest
Plain (of life), yet I am here wallowing on the dirt, like a paralyzed viper, a snake
The scent of a peppermint plant arouses a moment of hope, it fades greatly, fast
Tonight the end will come, long overdue like that library book you found
Ten years after high school graduation, but I remember each day
Miserable, unhappy, and filled with the fear of life, alone on this earth
Never sure if I did right or wrong, never able to hug you or love you, not
Time for a disaster, today's events in this world are bizarre, to think the entire
World could pop from a single bomb, and mankind scurrying as black ants would
Pass to twilight, you beg for pleasant thoughts, your prison cell block prevents your
Ability to grab me by the arms and say "Honey stop I love you" and if you could
I am too sick to respond, you might choose your weakness over the strength of love
When I piss on the "rot weed" it died; I ambivalent can fall to darkness, night...

Dancing to the vibe, trance takes me further, deeper, beyond my despair and
This AnGeLinTranCe forgets that the beat will take you there, even when God beckons
In that dark club, filled with bodies excreting sweat, sex, primitive love efforts; stale
Smoke from punched out cigarettes is all I recall, and the peace dove died out in the
Wet stone alley, crying pigeons breed flagrantly, and their offspring of solid grey
Pedigree of life (death) forms paper back novels, this boredom prevents my legs
From feeling the energy to stand, dance, and break down again
If only this time it were different, and this drudgery would cease
An olive branch is all, still and cool an ocean away from here
Thirst quenched by simple water, and the pale undertones of rest
Tomorrow will come, boring icons of existence remain, and the world will
Surge on nothing of meaning, the qualities of a miracle escape me time and time
Again, and that gold wrist watch causes hives, so throw it to the trash and forget
The minutes, seconds, hours, and years; the lifetime of counting backwards
Escape I the meaning of a new day, STOP, please create the cross of belief here
Bible closed (again), and one prayer comes to mind, "God help me" and
You enter me again, there is a huge Berlin Wall before me
Feed me Haggendaaz strawberry ice cream by the pint
Brush your lips across my neck (just so) and then
A coca cola with crushed ice, a slice of lemon might
Take me in your arms again for I need you, the swimmer in me died, drowning
In this cold sea, my eyes search for you, knowing we have months till the end of
Your sentence, yet did wait before, and will piss in these weeds again, regardless
You make my blue eyes sparkle, my mouth smile; the words written in my heart
Billow with expectancy; LOVE is so invasive that sex has no meaning today, and
Intimacy is your heart engraved into mine, marriage is forever, come to me

They are banging hard to break the porch down
Soon the air will be crisp, fall will come and
The night will be long...

...Till...

Till A Part
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
July 26th, 2006

Spinning the tale taller, you drive away, to a place isolation is stilled, the talk of
A man, food, a sallow drink; calms your sense of alone, fills the urge to beat a man
To a pulp (again), the bed is unmade, dishes remain dirty, the disorder is your symbol
Leaving discord to be rearranged, so there is a purpose to hit the alarm clock, dress
Meet the day again, the bills unpaid (money), the quiet scent of closed rooms, no
Light, a Christmas tree dead in the driveway, she is gone, this road ends now
Spring storm comes hard, forcing the humid air to break into a lone
Vertical line, the sky is black and covered with dense clouds, the
Wet flood immerses you in restrain,t for always there is something
Bigger than you, your Friday night drink, the smoke that dulls your
Angst, she does not sit in that broken chair, tapping her keyboard, smiling in the
Frigid AC you refuse to turn down, even when you freeze in arrogance, you repeat
Every form of abuse you know, "I'll teach her a lesson" and she graduated long
Before she met you, she hurt harder than you can swing a fist, she sunk lower
Then any ghetto alley you walked muscle bound, she so frail she could break
Her fearless heart moves her faster, further, and miles apart--sleep alone, so dead
Garish ballroom of chintzy skirts, cheap smoke, varicose veined women
Traipsing about in semi-fog, caked makeup like crust on bread, old, they
Are tired, treading the dance floor sniffing for a middle aged fix, a man
To bend the rules, take them home, give a roof, and unpleasant sex
Pot bellied, balding, short-legged men, with just enough hours earned at labor to
Correct the life of the female force, taking deep glory in the age beginning to show
Wrinkled around the eyes, children grown; ripe for house keeping, nightly sex and
Cooking bland meals for your fat form, going to church once a month, and crying
When their ailing mother dies, this life is not musical, the blaring bass lines end
If you want to be sad, open the door and enter, smoke a cigarette and go home, now...

The tub needs scrubbing, to bend over hurts, and slowly to stand tall becomes a
Miracle, like a faint rainbow reaching to enter these huge blue eyes; mascara smudges
The faint shadows beneath eyes that have lived immersed in physical pain, the memory
Shows sturdy legs, firm of muscle; walking the circumference of life without a moment
Left unspent, where sleep comes like night; tearing exhaustion down quickly, and the
Sun brings smiles of happiness, a new day, the courage to bear on with the living...
Relentless rain, sifting snow slowly, now the temperature drops and the ice
Forms small hard rivers, immovable; the frostbite seeps tight on fingers that
Forgot mittens, and the Christmas carol repeats itself, over and over again
This priest knows my story, prays mightily, yet breaks bread, eats soup
And I starve, not hunger, but honesty; when one is ostracized from the world of the
Living there is an earth filled with cockroaches, wild beats that screech in the dark
Terminally ill women falling in a blackened abyss, salt shakers empty, the pepper
Poured on the open wounds, again there is no result but pain, yes more pain, and
Then pain, that pregnant cow drops her newborn life on meadow grass, and he stands
Shaking young legs, utters his first moo, and becomes female all over again, don't try
To take me back, make me drive, tell me lies, open closed doorways
The circus has come to town, and the odd folks are clamoring amidst the
Village idiots, and yet the normals pay to see the side show, and the
Boredom enters again and again for nothing changes, not here, perhaps it
Is time to shut the library, stop reading, ignore the dull visions that repeat themselves
Daily, wear sunglasses, drive a garbage truck, and until the dying breath collect trash
Never ending, lay in the grave yard in darkness to understand how it will feel to be
Buried deep in the soil of decadent grey end, the light bulbs burned out, the electric
Is off, and this last pack of cigarettes is empty, my radio broke, the CDs fell down the
Stairs, there is no gas in the tank, my arms are numb, legs paralyzed, and yet I say

Why is it till a part of me lives, I die
This life never ends...The valentine heart cracks
Cupid shoots his bow, do leave me, yes alone...

...Barefoot...

Barefoot
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
July 31st, 2006

I still walk barefoot, even though you tire of me stopping to hop on one foot
The proverbial West Texas sticker blindly hidden somewhere in tender skin
It hurts-pain tells me it is real, and as the hot gravel touches the sole of my
Foot I am filled with thousands of dime store characters, immersed yet fleeing
From paperback novels that will never sell, and the taste of strawberry ice cream
Traces my tongue with pleasure, this is how I know you, for you bend down
Even in the dark, to feel that sticker as I wait patiently for you
To remove that simple stab wound of pain, from me, smiling
Tenderly, ever willing to touch all of me now, in the dark moon light
Here on the street corner where no one is watching, I in boxer
Shorts, innocent a child of life, one who cannot grow up, but will swallow you
Whole for the barracuda is there-protecting me from the nuclear fall out of my
Mommy dearest sodomizing my flesh before I could walk, much less crawl
That old song is bereft of the rose scent that you taste, deep on my skin
Where it is warm, (likely somewhere in the middle), my thong moves by itself
You enter, and that fit like a tight leather glove, wearing me out, the taste of
Bitter lemon on my tongue, Coca Cola and ice chips, this thirst
Renders me dry, yet wet; yes you know the impasse, and the
Children are playing somewhere in the early morning dawn the
School bus is coming, the door slams, I roll over and your skin
Touches mine again, and we are lost in ONE place where we find yellow flame
Nipping at those parts saved for husband and wife, and we play house as two
Lustful teenagers who know better, have found it out, and yet know it all and
You are hard, (where I am soft), you empower your body to enter (I accept)
The electrical charge makes me moan, devour all of you, then turn to reach
Over and take your role into me, for I am good; better, and worse than all you
Need, love, and rainbow feel with a finger (yes here)
Chiffon see through blouse, unbuttoned, your fingers cannot
Wait for your hunger is that of a man famished, and I am
Your menu, your rage, your ability to murder, and bring life
Again, we walk, now hand in hand-satiated yet wanting lips that touch, bend
Curve, and innocent tongue tastes the salt of a stray tear--how can you know
Love when you desire the recipient, deeper down then you ever went, this is
Not his abyss, but his hiding place, refuge--sexuality is just a word for fornicate
That prairie dog turned crimson when the pick up truck ran him down, and his
Blood ran like rain, dried on the desert floor, the dirt scatters, blows, I love you...

Take that sticker out of my foot...
He sighs, she is bare foot again...

DeHaan Keeshonden

Africa photos

Africa photos

"The Seed....planted to grow..."

Watermelon Dreams...Loss of a Child...

Watermelon Dreams
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George
July 4th, 2006

Dripping down your chin, pink juice, a stray black seed, innocent taste to a place
Imprinted on your tongue, and the thirst that was quenched now ceases go gnaw at
Your inner hunger like a buzzing wasp without a destination, he will land upon a gentle
Flower, never to imprint with pain a stinger of awareness, so futile are your eyes focused
Upon a place beyond the day and night of months, years, and times where the abyss
Is little more than a large barn filled with scents of animals, kept from freedom, do you
Want to buy this song playing somewhere so far away you cannot
Hear the lyrics, or rather sit on this blanket, on new mown grass
Beneath a sturdy oak tree, to eat watermelon, sleep a cat nap and
Find your clarity upon awakening, at the end of yet another lost day
The children are bouncing a light weight ball; bright pink and obnoxious to the eye
Safe until it flies up in the air and lands in the way of a moving car, down the black
Asphalt of the highways, that multiply faster than the innocence of the newborn cry
He raises to the street young pink hands grabbing the ball, and the sound of a
Smash as his once alive presence flies to the top most white cloud, and falls
With an ending thud, and the screams, then dead silence end the summer day
His mother has dark circles beneath her tear stained eyes, she is too
Young to think her life might end, but the nagging emptiness fills her
Barren womb, and her youngest daughter stands solemnly by her side
Waiting for the hug, the kiss on the forehead that she needs, for she
Does not understand her brother is gone, and that the ball will not bounce again
Daddy is working overtime day in and day out, he has become a mad machine
The women filter in and out of the house, bringing food, quiet words spoken in
Caution, and his small bed remains unmade, the door shut, as if he will awaken
One Daddy long leg spider creeps across the rose carpet, and exits the back door
He too free of the grief stricken home, fertile thoughts, lazy grass, weeds beckon him...

She is growing, like a bean sprout, winding in circles of change, skin hue healthy
Rose colored cheeks, eyes of blue, and the door opened, they cleaned out the room
Boxes left on small carts, the bed left too, a scent remained of a young boy after
Play, fresh earthy smell, his baseball hat tipped to the side, and his physical energy
Climbs the walls, even now painted pale yellow, a new baby cries as if in a foreign
Land, and a moment of sadness (like the dot on an i) pounds, sweet sounds again
Mother made the bed, sat hand in hand, crying tears of uncertain
Emotions, talking of heaven, a gate and light that is warmer than sun
Licorice candy, a birthday cake unmade, strawberry ice cream in a
Bowl eaten carefully with a shiny silver spoon, where did he go..
This summer we drove hundreds of miles, and the white sand scratched white feet
By dinner time we baked like lobsters, skin red, itchy and in pain, white vinegar
Soothed our souls, and beyond the gentle low tide and ocean floor a gentle light
Burned silently in a light house issuing safety to boats, travelers, and even the
Child that swam beyond the jetty floor, to her destiny, his voice called "come"
The baby awoke at three a.m., and she was not in her bed, and urgency drove
Her mother barefoot and screaming to the sounds of pounding surf
A storm tide high enough to make eight foot waves, and she knew
Her body could not take the strength of God's hands bringing her in
But a tiny curled form sat on the sand even in total darkness her voice
Carried the song of suffering home, heart pounding hard, skipping beats she ran
Covered her in an embrace of life and death, lifted her high and said "I love you"
Togetherness poured like cement onto the wood form of a sidewalk, and never
Could she leave again, the church bells stopped ringing on Sunday, they packed
The car drove away without a glance back, and ate Burger King and stopped to
Buy a watermelon, fat, ripe and ready to eat, the clean sheets on the bed, night falls...

Father stopped working overtime, and the kitchen awoke with sounds of living
Fried eggs on fall mornings, buttery toast, with jam; a rooster crowing in the distance
Lost boys found and never orphaned, a picnic in the park, just lazy days spent
With love in a heart well missed, but gently place in the hands of a Creator
The smell of gasoline this hot July day, sifts slowly in a steam cloud, and the
Irritation of pumping fuel for that next journey, will not displace the rapture of
This certain day, the fireworks are just sparks of air ignited
Within the lungs of the living, and a band aid on a small cut
Is enough to say "I love you" again and again
Courage is a child's eyes crying out for the love of the lost
The baby is in kindergarten, and blonde haired (flaxen) and she is serious at times
Being born at a time when a brother was lost, gone from the home and family made
She skips with the others, and forgets what is not remembered, for she was not here
In the park, and does not play ball, but is solitary, and draws with colored pencils
The thoughts attached to her heart, in pale pink, sky blue, and at times, blood red
Her older sister is so beautiful, takes her to the mall, and lets her eat ice cream
Ruby red slippers, the field is filled with poppies and the red hair
Of a once child star turned heroin addict reminds her that time
Stops, and then goes, regardless of her empty space left inside
That key locked heart (now worn on a pendant) and one day
He will run again, the car will stop, and he will bounce the ball, and nowhere will
A door shut with the bed unmade, he will raise his own family, and never fail to
Kiss each child on the forehead before bed, take the time to say prayers, and
Bless the life lived, we are not alone, and now the guitar is playing west of here
A lilting solo, and the sounds of lovers in velvet night soothes the beast within
He was my brother, he is my refuge, the lights are out now, watermelon dreams...

To the young, do not grow
Jaundiced, angry, but embrace
The child within us all...

"The Greek..."

He can dance...the Greek can...
Greek Dance
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 1st, 2006

The April rain danced on pavement, cobble stone street, lazy black horse waiting
The hour of noon and quiet as they eat lunch, plan to work, and live this simple life
The olive branch extends to the Aegean sea, and the rosy faced children born with
Jet black hair play jump rope, their laughter tinkles like broken glass, but they are
Neat, clean, and loved day and night, somewhere so far from here, I cannot speak
Greek, but will enjoy what seeps in, the food spicy and the music rocks my cracked
Spirit back to sleep, there is continuity far from here, and the sunrise
Makes me wake up to another morbid day, where death travels in and out
Body wracked, as if beaten with the oars of a rowboat, that floats endlessly
Listlessly out to sea, a gull reminds me I am powerless to survive this fate
Don't be a friend, or follow my shallow foot steps down the stairs, where I walk with
Purpose, following shadows of light cutting into the night's fall, darkness is still too
Deep for me to accept, it makes my skin crawl, and the lone spider props his spiked
Legs upon me, hoping that I do not turn again, so I sit instead, perched like an owl
Waiting, watching, and shutting off the floodgates of thought that destroy me
The memory of you festers again, who were you anyhow, an embryo let go
That young woman is to be married on Sunday, they drape her
Lace train up higher, and cover her in rose scented oil, her dark black
Eyes glow with expectation, for the dream remains her reality, and
Surely her fiance is nervous, prepared to please her for years to come
The population lives a life where family, culture, and strong religion are eagerly
Planted, in rows like summer corn, and there is no diversity expected but for the
Changeless sky that is calm, a rare storm threatens needed rain, and it falls down
In celebration, they accept me visiting their ancient town, walking calmly with my
Writing book and pen, sitting on old driftwood upon the white sand at the shoreline
A red bicycle is my ride (if I so want), and my sheets are clean and white when I sleep...

He may seek me, my letter handwritten awaits his eyes, to understand why I have
Crossed continents, bent the final vow like a bow and arrow, shot the mark so far away
But each day that passes, I appreciate the dark haired sea men who load the ships
Their strong shoulders burnished brown in the powerful sun, their scent of sweat so
Clean and natural, and the brilliant red flower pots that adorn this inn I stay at, ease
Me, remove the memory of living that drove me here, begin and end a book of life
The air is fresh, the smell of salt at sea so vivid, the dark blue sky grows
Common, we sleep early and rise earlier still, there are rocky mountains
Buried in solid ground miles in the distance, if I stay perhaps my legs can
Will me to climb them, feel the ancient rock beneath my jeans on my skin
Years of exhaustion took me here, where boredom is routine, where no chaos can
Swerve before me like a car out of control, crashing down a canyon in California
Crashed, no life remains, the bodies carried by helicopter off the cliff, and the
Rage of our culture bears warning, that even in death we live on to complain
Instead this garland of lilac lays around my neck lightly fragrant, and the summer
Words are crisp, like fresh salad sprinkled with apple cider vinegar, healthy I mend
And this dark prince who enters my chamber touching my arm in sleep
Is a gift unwrapped, like fine chocolate he enters my mouth, and his taste
Is beyond the kiss of love that generates a life and marriage, instead I
Whisper in his ear "you can go now" and he stays holding me closer still
In the morning light a shadow follows his form, he dresses slowly staring deeply into my
Blue eyes, but I turn away, this stranger cannot be memorized, for my bank is full to
The brim of men who loved me, I left one by one, to run like the child I am and will be
To the garden gate, flinging it aside with wild abandon, chasing cherry tree visions like
Clockwork, skipping and then laughing, rolling in fall leaves, and then demanding that
Spring come, so I might walk barefoot alone, down to the water's edge, wet my feet...

We dance the Greek dance, he is strong and lifts me
Naked in the moonlight to enter this warm place where
Stars burn with purpose, I am here, just to sleep...
Good night

Saturday...

Hello to all here,

I presume this is my first attempt, at speaking in journal style to each of you who might visit or read my "blog." Blog to me sounds so "fat" not phat which is much more in style with life as we see it.

I do not know if I am yet comfortable with "journaling" on line I have many renditions of what psychopaths on the net are capable of, nonetheless this first delivery at least is such an attempt.

Weekends are very upsetting to me; as most know I suffer nonmalignant intractable pain so it is not as if a work week is upset or usurped.

Well enough said...I leave you in Saturday's anomie.

Peace to all,

Karen G.

"Wicked"

"Wicked"
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George BS,RN
August 12th, 2006

Wicked old snow plow pusher--American Indian chief lost in this land of desert
Snow, idly you touch a glowing flame, immersed in the soil-a flower of youth
Delicate-pale and pearl white, immersed in the deep soil, where dark fertility
Maintains life (in and out), and a wheelbarrow stands alone, rusty paint
Peeling like the skin of an apple started with a sharp knife
"Can we go" and you hear that voice far away, coming closer, she runs
Falls to the ground, she is planted too, here today, anew she is

Empty of spirit, forgotten in time
A lone doll mesmerized in history that
HURTS like a whip cracking bare skin
Years of bleeding stop, she is bereft, dry...

Peace is total quiet, the night begins without the prairie dog, lone coyote
Smells of the dying fire, food eaten--time spent in reverence for the night,the day,
A season that lost season, change slowly,to speak to her of years (go by)
Without ONE word, the only "self" she knows is given away to a line of militia
The world to she is endless FEAR, a stray tear drop falls as her head tilts
To sleep, wrapped in warm wool, and the day will end this time, just once
He watched her pray quickly (afterthought) and hoped for more, next time...

The sun glows like yellow, bright, ember
The day hot, forbidding, the shade will beckon
"Follow me" and there is work beneath the leaves of
Tall oak trees, the hands can write a story of life...

Barefoot, legs tan, her image fits but for bright blonde hair, blue eyes
She is one accepted here, the women smile, she holds the newest born son
Close to her breast (she must be a mother), and they leave her sitting in
Happiness as they speak in their eyes of "love lost" and the demons of
Civilization plowing her down to a darker place, near death, fallow fields
They see her leaving, not today, a year perhaps, seeking the answers
Elusive waves, they murmur respect for her "lost spirit" flat and grey...

Stronger her legs become, walking miles in the woods
Touching a leaf the first time, a tremor rocks her heart
The lost word fills her, is it love, or hatred
How close they flow, so like a trickling stream

Winter comes, the blizzard keeps them close, fires burn, and they huddle
Together, (so close) they appear as one form, there is TRUST growing in
Her beaten heart, and the tiny seed of spirit born, she is ONE with
Nature, God, and these people who now are family--she has forgotten how
To find her way back to PAIN, and life has begun to burn like a strong
Candle, one whose flame cannot be stopped by wind, water, or the touch
A stranger makes--there is nothing but now, the forest is a nest...

The truck comes in the afternoon, he finds her
"Thank God you are here," and she turns to run faster
Then her legs could go, a mile down the road she stops
Breathless, and old tears fester, her cheeks ice red, cold

"I am not" and she knows she must leave, the heaven has ended, and he
Will force history into today, reminders of pain, suffering, and violence
She can go, or stay, can go, stay, go--the wind plummets and smacks her
Face he is seeking her with cold dark eyes hungrily, and they are gone
She is alone, and the lesson of a year in days fills her, she is whole
"I will come" and the drive is endless, the sounds of the city vulgar
The taste of white bread bitter, the apple tree is gone,the tower fell...

This time I did not make it
Next time I will listen
Soft voice - - fill me up -- with GOD
Please, now before I go...

I Don't Like Michael
Karen Hallenbeck-Sikorsky-George
BS,RN
August 1st, 2006

The duck pond is large enough to swim, and the land goes on for acres, the little girl feels
Escape from the city, mother screaming obscenely, drunk, unhappy--mad as a wet hen
This week is forever, there are country cats lined up for food on the patio, and no one hollers
"Get out" for they live here, some pregnant, and the outdoor dogs do not chase them away
There is food in the cupboard, and freezers of ice cream, sweet treats, and hunger never comes
Her belly is full, sleep comes without molestation, and my cousin Michael is my new best friend
We walk the fenced land, with a small basket of food, the world of the woods
Cawing birds in tallest trees, dripping dark green foliage and there are no
Snakes to chase us out of our adventure, there are places here that no one
Goes, old rusted shovels left in summer rains years past, we walk all day until
Our legs are strong but like jelly, we eat like ravenous animals, take a hot bubble bath, watch
Television, to go to bed, and at night there is sleep, more sleep, and pink cloud dreams, no
Fear of mother lurking behind that door to beat me into screaming tears, to rape me again
She does not know me, and this week I do not miss her at all, Tuesday comes too quick and
Counting seven days down till I must go makes me sad, we play games, chase birds and color
Until the afternoon sun goes down, and dinner is cooked and waiting, we eat again and again
My Aunt Annie knew but she is crazy, she must take pills for schizophrenia
She is blonde and beautiful, my mother looks nothing like me, she smiles
Wishes she had a girl but she had two boys, my cousin Michael is one
She has a funny laugh, but she is kind, and hugs me like a mother does
The week passed too quickly, and the ride home was too long, and the summer heat burned
New holes in my thoughts, for just a child like me thinking how to escape is a full time job
I get good grades, my heart shuts down, my mind forgets, and I march like a wooden soldier
One day I am seventeen, college bound, and the miles remove me from her sweaty paws
Grasping my lost virginity in sick haven of Seagrams 7, the New England winter covers me
In deep snow, for the first time I have a right to go away, the orphan cries, I am here...

Hitch hike to Plum Island, my friend Molly and I go out and the spring ocean of the north east is
Cold ice cold, we remain bare foot until the dinner hour and it is time to hitch hike back to study
For exams, get warm next to the radiators in our dormitory, sip warm apple cider late into the
Night, recite facts we will never repeat, write papers we will never read again, and wonder how
It will feel if we finally grow up, (we both did), and be loved by both parents so that we one day
Might be what they were not to us, we demand the dream be filled, thankful we are together
Life has become citrus, like orange blossoms in a far off clime
Today I hide in my room write in a journal that no one sees of
The mental pain of being an orphan alone, I miss my father for
He loves me, but grateful I am to be away from this monster of birth
The rich line this ivy league campus, all have sports cars, and never work as I do in the summer
Waiting tables, making green dollars to buy college books, forced to study harder to keep my 4.0
GPA or lose a scholarship, the only way I live is by exertion, not one day since birth did I play alone
Have fun with friends, or think of feelings that are locked away deep in this iron chest with no key
Rock and roll expresses my rage, driving force, and the time comes near where I graduate, and go
To further education, marriage, no children; I do not want them, wonder why I do not for I do not..
Hacking cough, fever, pneumonia I am not eating well
Infirmary, medications, and a big fat nurse to tend my need
Sipping soup, wracking coughs, escape one more time from
Death which circles around my head, austere yet demanding
Someday I want to be like you, not grow up and enter childhood, innocent, untouched and loved
The moment has passed; the stress of pursuit wears me out, this summer I will not come back
New Jersey is hot and humid, there are cooler places to go; strangers who will not punish me for
"Karen," and nothing will make me feel beautiful, she screams from a distance, degrades ME
My cousin Michael is mad he cannot go to college; he dates a Puerto Rican girl, his mother cries
He works with Uncle Frankie, and it is my fault he is a failure, it is easy to say "I don't like Michael."

When Daddy died they came to his funeral...
They did not mean to come, they are mean...
"I don't like Michael..."