About Me

Mild mannered woman child by day. Insane cartoonist by night. Mel one day hopes to figure out the meaning of life. Comics are a tool to accomplish this goal while not taking herself too seriously.

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Friday, April 13, 2018

OCD Poetry

I have no idea what this is but my mind has been running through it for days.  Its not done but I need a break.  Feel free to fill in blanks.  I just cant stand the OCD thought ramble anymore.


I will slay the Jabberwocky today!
And if I have to, I will give her away,
Six impossible things before breakfast
Oh it is my favorite meal!
How do you become a queen of broken things!
How do you keep the whole world from falling apart!

Hush little baby don’t say a word
Mamas gonna buy you a mocking bird
And if that mocking bird don’t sing
Mamas gonna buy you a golden ring
And if that golden ring turns brass
Mamas gonna buy you a looking glass
And if that looking glass should break

Mamas gonna make you a golden rake
And if that golden rake looks fake
Well mamas gonna tell just what it takes.

To be a queen of broken things.

Oh but my favorites come in threes
But Alice only has the two
But she slays the Jabberwocky
In the end

When I was a farmer
I would wield a golden rake
I would fill the world with joy
In the good food I would make

I was a good worker
a dancer through the field
A singer in my heart
wrote stories for my children
And the world praised my art

Once I was a farmer
But when I broke my back
My world was split in two
Now I sit and mourn
“Oh what am I to do?”

But the world we have
Is the world we create,
And nothing can be done
with a broken golden rake.

So I will take something old and I will make something new.
Then my world will no longer be askew
...
If I was a golden rake what a monster I would be
I could cut off two prongs
make a pitchfork
take the other end and
....
As a golden rake a monster I am
But there are good things I could do


I must look at the world as if I hold glue
And start asking, “what am I to do?”
....
I have two hands and one mouth
no longer can I dance with ease
so I look back to the start
In youth I was a lark.
I could sing on my own but I preferred a choir

No NO you dont want me.
You want to be a lark singing through the trees
Yes yes It is true but there is so much more to do
rare is a bird that can be one thing
there are many songs that we all must sing

Of hard work and sacrifice I am up to the task
But in academia I had always placed last.

NO, Im not stupid
If I must ask
But my hands are the smart ones
They are a master of disguise
I have two switches one in my heart, one in my mind,
switch one on to make my intellect show
And to my hands it goes
They are cleaver enough to complete most tasks.

If turned on one at a time
there is a chance I may shine
but the truth of the matter I need both to go
if run on half power all say Im slow

The fighter wields a double edged sword dipped in ink
he sheaths it in his hat as he thinks
to some he’s a loon but I call him a Lovecraft
he slays demons with words whenever he is asked.
(writers are love crafts writing is their craft)

If I where a witch my wand would be burnt at the tip
I would cast spells in red, yellow, blues
and draw a sunset over you
to some I seem scary
but not for long
because I would be one that could do no harm.
(artist)

But I have two hands
a left and a right
with one I work and the other I fight
I could carry a staff and a sword
and be a healer for the heart
I am the one everyone loves and hates
because If you have a secret
I will open the flood gate.
(cartoonist)

But I know not what to do because I have one mouth too.
As a singer Im a siren and I throw a net on you
I call you from the sea
To find the lighthouse behind me
But not to rocks or your doom
But so you don’t leave this world too soon

Music is my drum and I call you to the shore
But the sea is vast and your ship has but one mast
If you pass by me you could be lost out at sea.
No my kind can rarely stand alone.
Turn me to sound I sing in a choir.
Oh but to some we are but birds on a wire.

Oh but who can I call on?  Who is up to the task?
To call a sailor to turn his mast?

If I was a musician I could wield three.
Oh what a horrible monster I would be.
In the land of magic I would be a bard
But I am of the earth and bang on drums.
For the winds of war to come.
But I wont strike them in anger and to feed my hunger
but to call you back to me
so we may dance on the shore once more.
....
Oh but Im the one that knew all along,
 While you all thought and turned it to song.
You don’t like my jokes so you cast me out,
yes some walk slow and some walk quick,
but we are the ones that sorrow and anger stick.
I could have prevented everything,
But you cant stand the way I sing.
I don’t need a drum
I don’t need a string
I don’t need a single thing
In my hand I may hold a sword
But I am a sniper that stands in the front
truth is
I can not hide
And comedy is my guise
(comedian)
....
We are chimeras codebreakers, codemakers, fighters, healers one and all
 wielding magic of the heart
Most will see monsters at the start.  (sea monsters)
No matter what you do.
We are here.
For You.
...
If we choose war.
....
I choose peace but if Im borne in war
I am a fighter through and through
You have no idea what I would do
I do
....
Fighters need a healer but in peace the healer doesn’t need the fighter.
Healers are lazy in peace
which is why they need the soldiers to create a pace
A healers work is never done
because most have hearts that would run
Soldier boy hold my hand and help me along
....
we all have a gift
we can bear arms to harm
or plant seeds to heal
we all create worlds
we all cast spells
we all create with love
bear love
My love
....
If we choose peace
Defusing explosives is our art.
We are demolition diffusers
fighters and healers always come in pairs
and there is never only one.
Dont give up on me,
I wont give up on you,
And in the end.
...
We will make the world a better place.
The choice is yours.
The End



My mechanical heart, gets up everyday.


This is one of my favorites of the pile of unused comics I have laying around.  The hardest part of the day is getting out of bed.  You can feel surrounded by the worries of the world, all the nagging doubts that your mind creates, but I always remember my family and friends during those moments.  I have a blessed life with all I could ever need.  The monster in the front though.  That one hides deep in my heart, compassion, crippling and necessary.  Thinking things through takes time or the snake spits venom on everyone.

I love my mechanical heart,
It was complete at the start,
But we all need to restart,
At the beginning and end of the day,
Or what will we be?
Am I the monster in-front,
or behind me?

political museings







I was in a car accident and spent a long time unemployed.  I would look for office jobs and scrolling through the internet.  I hate watching the news, what can I say I like being able to wake up in the morning without existentialist dread hanging around my head, and had a lot to catch up on in regards to SJW mindset and some new terminology that was being thrown around.  There does seem to be an overload of noise that seems to cover up a single connecting picture.  I haven't figured it out yet but remembering that there is a wider world out there is important.  Political writing is not for the faint of heart.  Not sure about my results but the process was worth it.

I get stuck in a cycle when I research I have to remind myself to step away and live a real life.  I don't believe I have it in me to complete the full cycle of research, writing, and drawing any politically charged product on my own.  I'm just slow man.  I'm just slow.

Simple



Drew after trying to find lingerie for valentines day.  I have always had a hard time finding clothing I like that fit into some feminine standard of beauty.  Time and time again I go for simple.  Simple is my favorite.  A tee shirt or plain long nighty makes me feel sexier than any lace and frills.

self control

Self control comes in many different forms.  Sometimes its getting your work done, remembering your diet, and other days its not stroking your shirt for hours on end.

unententional double entendre.

Drew this years ago because my cat eats toilet paper. 
Like.  Literally my feline plays with toilet paper and eats it.  . . . . . .

Just cued in a month ago that this could be a Double entendre.

Yes I'm slow.


Escape

because squids....