The Wednesday Corner With Fycsene Shields

the secret keeper:

Love the experience of reading the first post and the artist Niamh Clune chose on the re-open of The Wednesday Corner. Fycsene Shields talent lies in many aspects from drawing to writing. She includes a tenderly written poem, I thought, at first, she was the poet behind the words. No, I was mistaken. I hadn’t read close enough the name of the poet. The poet touches your soul. The experience of reading and viewing what Fycsene Shields creatively offers had a powerful effect on my emotions and mind. Niamh Clune made a great choice to bring her On the Plum Tree. What a powerful description to finding a way through the pain of lose and how creative a path to discover what is within and around you. To find the spirit contained within not just the rock but her transformations of everything around her into something magical and memorable. I am moved by her written words and the images she placed in my own mind and the ones she shared in her amazing drawings. The poem touched me. It is so tender and moving. Thank you for sharing your experience, Fycsene Shields. And thank you Niamh, you made a great choice in Fycsene Shields to re-open The Wednesday Corner. A wonderful and an emotionally filled post. The tears of joy is a reassuring ending in the words of the artist who wrote them. Loved the experience of reading and viewing all and its powerful effects on ones emotions and thoughts. Life is a mixture and balance of emotions and moments changing so quickly sometimes. We try to adjust but it is difficult at times. Creating is a great way to find our way through. Thank you both. Do take a trip over and experience the specialness of this moving post on The Wednesday Corner On the Plum Tree. Jk the secret keeper

Originally posted on Plum Tree Books Blog:

It is a few weeks now since I posted a Wednesday Corner, due to the spectacular crash of the hard drive on my computer. I apologise to all those who have been waiting patiently for me to post their pieces. I have a lot of catching up to do.

However, I have great pleasure in introducing you to artist and poet Fycsene Shields.  Many thanks, Fycsene for your lovely piece. I know that you have suffered tragedy, and it is to people like you who find their way through such dark times that many of us turn when we are in need.


How many times a week do you feel inspired?

By Fycsene Shields

Have you felt the pure and fulfilled satisfaction of creating something beautiful?

Not something which is useful, or which will sell, but something which, by looking at it, brings a feeling of pleasure? Magical words…

View original 558 more words

Happy Birthday My Friend on Sunday 11th August 2013

Happy Birthday My Friend on Sunday 11th August 2013
Created For My Friend On Her Birthday
Love Jennifer
Jk ‘the secret keeper’
Posted On Sunday 11th August 2013
A Writer’s Word

A Rainbow Circle For You, Love Jennifer Happy Birthday

A Rainbow Circle For You, Love Jennifer
Happy Birthday

Gatsby's Rose --- Photographer Shawn MacKenzie

Temporal Distortion

Happy Birthday
I Wish I Could Give You
A Birthday Bear Hug
But I Guess These
Will Have To Do.
xoxoxoxoxoxox, Love, Jennifer

Happy Birthday Fairy Style

Words Streaming With Hidden Meaning
By Jennifer Kiley
Written 2012

Words Stringing Together
Needing-Wanting-Any Order Will Do
The Eternal Definition:
[place your order] One With Everything [think about it]
Find Peace In Breathing Deeply
Writing-Star Light-Infinite Space
Love-Give-Give To You
Dream-Vision-Woman-Be Yourself
Be One-Love One-Love All-In Peace
Night-Time-Space Travel-All Is One
Be Here Now

© jennifer kiley 2013

A Rose For You by Leo Savitsky   It's Magical & Mystical Just Like You, Love Jk

A Rose For You by Leo Savitsky It’s Magical & Mystical Just Like You, Love Jk

Kindred Spirits
by Jennifer Kiley

Long ago in times past we met
You were known to me as another
And I found in you a stranger
Who I let into my life
You needed my help
It was offered and accepted

Slowly your newness wore off
Revealed was a gentle spirit
With the talent to move creation
You were a pagan, loving nature

We lived in hidden places
Being searched out by danger
We ended protecting the other
Finding closeness in our plight
Guarded by protective spirits

We found solace in one another
Your eyes watched over me
As mine watched over you
Our closeness grew with time
Our journeys had merged
Out of safety and from love
Our souls were joining
In mutual compassion
We became one

© jennifer kiley 2013

Elephant Walking Amongst the Trees

Love is…
by jayarrarr

Love walks a tightrope barefoot over a bottomless pit
engulfed in flames and never looks back.

Love conjures a smile through tears.

Love believes impossible things are possible.

Love is truth, and as such, is sometimes painful.

Love is necessary.

Love is the beauty that shines through cracks
in imperfectly broken things.

Love is hanging your arm out of an open car window
on a hot summer’s day road trip
and pretending to fly.

Love whispers “it gets better”.

Love makes you cry at weddings
and laugh at funerals.

Love pushes you, challenges you,
refuses to let you compromise.

Love never backs down no matter
how hard you fight.

Love is that one song you play over and over
a hundred times and never get tired of.

Love takes charge when you’ve lost all hope,
and makes sure you keep going.

Love thinks you’re amazing
and doesn’t give a fuck
how depressed, angry, ugly,
or stupid you feel.

Love is lightning bugs.

Love is spinning ‘round and ‘round
in circles until you fall down.

Love is the wave that knocks you off
your feet when your back is turned.

Love is stubborn,
and won’t take “no” for an answer.

Love is fearless.

Love is also blind, deaf, and dumb –
and that’s a good thing.

Peter Pan — Happy Birthday

love is…

My Thoughts Are With You Today

Birthday Fairy In Magical Forest

Amazing Visions

European Architecture — Night Vision

Abstract Tree of Black and White by Mark Chapwick

Abstract Tree of Black and White by Mark Chapwick

Love is…
Written by Jennifer Kiley
23rd July 2012

Love is…mysterious.

Love is…unconditional.

Love is…something that can take your breath away.

Love is…expected to be given to a baby when s/he is born.

Love is…spiritually powerful.

Love is…nurturing.

Love is…good.

Love is…a feeling.

Love is…falling into a pleasant state of ecstasy.

Love is…pure.

Love is…passionate.

Love is…spoken in poetic words that have no limit in the ways they are expressed.

Love is…what you feel for a friend one cares about in a gentle way.

Love is…gentle.

Love is…written about by all poets and writers.

Love is…the best part of most plays written by Shakespeare.

Love is…the most misunderstood communication between people.

Love is…an incredibly powerful word.

Love is…a feeling of intense devotion and heartfelt emotion for someone.

Love is…an intense word used when there are emotional feelings for someone special.

Love is…not something that can be easily explained. and you don’t truly know what it is until it happens to you.

Love is…a strong feeling of affection towards another.

Love is…talking on Skype and not wanting to end chat.

Love is…the happiest feeling in the world…it is better to have loved then to never loved at all.

Love is…a force of nature which, like any other natural phenomenon, cannot be civilized, contained or contended…a force which cannot be controlled, avoided, destroyed or escaped.

Love is…an emotion usually described as ‘indescribable’ because you cannot find the right word to match your feeling of being completely and utterly captivated by someone.

Love is…something too complicated to define according to The Encyclopedia Britannica.

Love is…an amazing feeling that almost makes your heart burst with this overwhelming passion for someone.

Love is…passion, romance. a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person.

Love is…a feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person.

Love is…a zero score in tennis.

Love is…what drives you.

Love is…a great victory of human imagination over intelligence.

Love is…a rare psychological malfunction caused by an undetermined amount of interaction with another person.

Love is…someone making your heart smile, and making it sing with such exuberance that it will skip a beat from time to time.

Love is…healing.

Love is…comforting.

Love is…something that has made people insanely, foolishly, abnormally euphoric.

Love is…the ability to send one on an indescribable high, and make everything and anything so much better.

Love is…something that makes the world around you much more colourful, the people, much nicer, the conversations more insightful.

Love is…something with a shocking contrast, brought out by the darker side in us all, where people have murdered for love, stolen, hurt, and abused but I am not sure this really speaks for love but is a distortion and delusional interpretation of what love is and I felt it needed to be mentioned.

Love is…something that has sparked wars, and ended feuds, love has hurt, and love has healed, love has driven humankind to dizzying extremes, only to abruptly bring one back around.

Love is…an incredibly powerful word and emotion.

Love is…painful.

Love is…losing someone you love to the hands of death.

Love is…holding a warm, fluffy, purring kitty in your arms and they look up into your eyes, reflecting back the love you feel for them.

Love is…when you can feel comfortable being around that person you are with, no matter how you look, what you are wearing or if you are naked.

Love is…unconditional affection with no limits or conditions: completely loving someone.

Love is…an unconditional feeling that is felt, simply by being around her.

Love is…the absolute devotion you feel towards someone.

Love is…fierce.

Love is…when you realize you want to be with someone forever.

Love is…when you find something that you cannot live without or ever wish to be without.

Love is…something we think about, sing about, dream about, lose sleep worrying about it.

Love is…something when we don’t have it; we search for it; when we discover it; we don’t know what to do with it; when we have it; we fear losing it.

Love is…a constant source of pleasure and pain, but we can’t predict which it will be from one moment to the next.

Love is…a short word, easy to spell, difficult to define, impossible to live without.

Love is…to give all of yourself to a person-s-cause and to expect nothing back.

Love is…a mental-physical-spiritual thing beyond human comprehension.

Love is…something that surpasses all understanding.

Love is…patient.

Love is…kind and envies no one.

Love is…never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude; never selfish, nor quick to take offense.

Love is…a feeling that delights in the truth.

Love is…something that can face anything.

Love is…limitless in its faith, its hope, and its endurance.

Love is…something that lasts forever.

Love is…saying that you care deeply about another person.

Love is…giving someone the power to destroy you, and trusting them not to.

Love is…the desire to blend with their soul.

Love is…something that will make you do anything.

Love is…intense and passionate.

Love is…something that makes everything seem brighter, happier and more wonderful.

Love is…caring deeply about another person.

Love is…when every time you see this person you get butterflies in your stomach.

[this one is extra special for your birthday]
Love is…like being in wonderland without the red queen. Sometimes everything makes sense, other times no one cares.

© jennifer kiley 2013

I Just Called To Say I Love You-Stevie Wonder

hand letting go of golden flecks gif

Seasons of Our Dreams
By Jennifer Kiley
August 2013

Delicate will we prance on softness of grass;
leaves that trees must shed and piles
for the child within to crash upon;
angels in white falling into drops
of flaked, crystallized rain;
return of green from smallest sprout
one moment and blooming shades of gleaming greens
and flowers multiplying colours across the fields;
we travel round the seasons of our dreams
and moments found where love is felt
from tender shades of changes in our heart and soul;
we flow and go along in joy and bliss.

© jennifer kiley 2013

moving water gif

Flamme Abstrait de Couleurs par j. kiley

Roue de la Fortune — Souhait— Les Rêves se Réalisent par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

happy birthday niamh


To Make You Chuckle. 8-) Jk

To Make You Chuckle. 8-) Jk

Motion Set At Confusion

Motion Set At Confusion
Written By Jennifer Kiley
Written On 9th August 2013
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 9th August 2013
Posted on Saturday 10th August

Abstract Fluid Acrylic Art by Mark Chadwick 855x960

Abstract Fluid Acrylic Art by Mark Chadwick

Motion Set At Confusion
By Jennifer Kiley
9th August 2013

Motion set at confusion
Blurring the thinker
With muddled perceptions
Visions not thought
Before clouding
The mind with fog
Opening doors
With no key holes
Entering rooms
Hiding memories

In stubbornness to be right
Distortions are recalled
Jumbled up feelings
Planting false senses
No attachments involved
Realities not real
Start stalking the truth
Hunting down lies
Destruction invented in minds

Vacate my head
Decease planting false visions
Leave reality alone
It belongs only to one
Desist in tampering
Playing psychic doctor
Credentials exceed limits
In this territory

Strength must be found
Undoing the damage caused
Tampering with beliefs
Complicate insecurities
With lies to protect lies
Begin the game of sacrifice
Trampling a person’s sanity
Darkness is blind evil
Match up exceeds power
Challenge has been accepted
Lost by resignation

Finally know identity
Words never can touch one
Whose strength exceeds any power of influence
Traps were set and sprung
Tested theories so weak
Allowed to enter the psyche
Chancing potential damage
Rescued before lies were set in stone
Fooling is not within power
Don’t see identity
Beyond authority
Power’s expanse
Its scope reaches farther limits
Will never touch with weakness

Power has been rejuvenated
After experiment failed to take hold
Bait was wasted
Practice on the weak
Shame on demonic demonstrations
The craven need for power
For total control
Letting go of the need to hold tight
Freedom is so much more enticing and inviting
The soul when free gives more to the dreamer
Without dreams are the broken ones
Healing and will continue to grow and heal
A continuous process learned through accepting
The serendipity of life and releasing the stronghold of death

When death comes will float into the ether
Until then will freely live life
Accept identity
All of one
Share with those love and trust
Love that grows within
That surrounds with sweetness
And renewal
Animals are the renewal of all things
The universe is a playground
Being alive
Accepting imperfections
Stop trying to steal identity
No longer welcome
In this world
It is over
Go away
Join the harmful ones
Trying to steal the innocent in all of us
You are a member of that gang now
Going to leave on life’s journey
You are not invited

© jennifer kiley 2013

“To Create Is To Destroy.”
— Jennifer Kiley-Letters of Import

Flamme Abstrait de Couleurs par j. kiley  (c) jennifer-kiley-2013  968x863

Flamme Abstrait de Couleurs par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

Didn’t Know My Own Strength — Whitney Houston

Quotation for Confusion:

“The things other people have put into my head, at any rate, do not fit together nicely, are often useless and ugly, are out of proportion with one another, are out of proportion with life as it really is outside my head.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions

You Are Not Alone — Michael Jackson

Sunshine Flowing Through Darkness

Sunshine Flowing Through Darkness
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Written Thursday 25th July 2013
Illustrated by j. kiley
Posted On Saturday 27th July 2013

depression emerging into sunset

“The future enters into us,
in order to transform itself
in us, long before it happens. ”
― Rainer Maria Rilke

Sunshine Flowing Through Darkness
Written by Jennifer Kiley
X-Treme Haiku
25th July 2013

Sunshine flowing through
Darkness hindering vision
Touch surfaces hope feels lost

Voices fill your mind
Lying tempting you to rage
Buried deeply in a grave

Clawing digging death
Awakening sleeping graves
Undead appear scared stiff run

Death following fear
No escape is near breathing
Hard are lessons taught too late

Remember goodness
Search for sounds of love’s echo
Outside the spirit senses

Guardian angels
Surround protect with safety
Barrier vibrations waves

Caring showing love
Holding embracing feelings
Tender gently touches hand

© Jk 2013

sunset shore darkness setting in

Disturbed — Darkness

Private Writings: Chapter #18 — Mystery Clawed Open

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #18 — Mystery Clawed Open
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
First Published March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 16th July 2013


Private Writings: Chapter #18 — Mystery Clawed Open

Tuesday, January 29th 2008

Dear Annie,

I have something really honest to confess to you. It is letting you inside my mind. Letting you know the real person. Thoughts were going through my mind; feelings were circulating of confusion shortly after meeting you. They were starting to absorb almost all of me. Rather obsessively. I’m not a dangerous stalker or anything. Just a touch more intense than most people. If I fixate on something and it feels right to me, I have to pursue getting close. It may sound strange but I seek you. That simple. Crazy as I may sound I want you desperately to be my new analyst. We connected to you so quickly. My feelings aren’t cluttered with romantic attraction; nothing sexual intended. Yes, I admit to being attracted to you but it is more a soul connection. There’s a familiarity between us. You must notice it. A feeling we have been together before we meant on October 2nd 2007. It feels spooky but I think that is okay.

Besides the attraction, I feel I could trust you enough to open up, be honest, not hold back what I have trouble dealing with. Lately, I have been becoming more and more withdrawn from the world. My agoraphobia is making me panic at the thought of leaving the house days before I know I have to. Hours before going out, I can barely breath. My body starts to shake. I would really like to talk privately to you. I feel you could help me. It would be an incentive if I knew I would be seeing you.

Time is coming close to my friend Kristina leaving the group and the state. You do remember she mentioned it at a group session a few weeks ago. She is the only person I feel safe with in that room besides you. I use to feel close, sort of, to Robin, but she has gotten rather negative whenever we talk, so I don’t like talking to her outside of group. We use to talk on the phone for way too long. I would shake after I got off the phone with her. It is the same way I felt with my sister a number of years ago. The last time I spoke to my sister, she made an excuse for my oldest brother. He started sexually abusing me when I was 10. He gave me a pornographic book and told me to read it. The funny touching started just before that. The book was disturbing. I under exaggerate. It was sexually graphic and violent. The parts that I read turned into snuff pornography. I didn’t understand it then but now I realize he was trying to intimidate me and I think he somehow thought the sick, perverted descriptions would somehow do something to me. If he even thought that shit would arouse me, he was nuts. It sickened me and freaked me out. To this day it still disturbs me. I never told anyone what was written in that book. Even writing to you privately and knowing I am not giving these letters to you, I can’t even bring myself to write down the words to describe the sickness on those pages. Just imagine the worst and then think even more disgusting.

Losing Kristina is going to be hard for me. I know once she leaves, even though we promise to write. It will eventually stop. Or slow down until we forget each other. What it feels like to connect. Now we talk practically every day on the phone. It is sometimes brief or can last longer. She just listens to me and doesn’t judge me. It is good to have a friend like her. Robin is so different. I dread when she calls. When I get a voice-mail it makes my mind protect me by forgetting to call her back. When I write an email saying I will call, I often forget. Why I am not getting the message my brain is sending, I do not know.

I think when Kristina leaves we should try texting and maybe through IM we could chat online. I heard of this new thing called Skype. You can actually see people while you talk or you can just talk or chat by writing. The best part of it is you are in the same time together. Kristina said she would try all these things. She isn’t really that familiar with the computer but I think she will learn. With practice it should become easier for her.

Before I end this letter, you know I like to tell you another teaser about our film Brief Sacrifice with the character Carter McLeod. I got to see some outtakes. It is looking sensational and Natalie Stephens is so strikingly beautiful. I have great fantasies about her. It would make you blush if I told you what they were.

The next phase after Carter buys the briefcase at the estate sale and brings it home. She tries to open it. Jasper, Jax and James, her huge Savannah cats all want to participate in the project. They are all over her and the coffee table while Carter tries first to jiggle the fastener. It won’t give. Then an idea comes to her. She starts feeling around the surface of the briefcase. It is rather smooth leather but well worn. Her hands move carefully, being sure to caress every inch of the surface. Her cats, especially James loved this process. He wanted to help by reaching out his right paw and placing it on the side of the briefcase. He rests it there, in that exact spot and refuses to move it. Well, Carter finds this rather curious. Is her cat being psychic or just wants her attention. Carter touches his right paw and tries to lift it. James won’t let her.

“What is it James? What has you so confounded?”

James starts to rub and dig with his paw. Carter watches him and thinks of Lassie. She loved Elizabeth Taylor as a child actress. Those movies were a thrill to her. “What is it young man? James please tell me what it is you are getting at.”

James is persistent about the spot his paw is now resting on firmly and determined not to move it.

“If you would just move your paw, I could check under it to see what you have discovered.” James obliges and moves his paw just a bit to one side of the spot. Now Jasper and Jax are becoming more curious. What did their brother figure out. Carter feels the spot. Her fingers feel carefully and how strange but she feels a slight difference in the texture of the leather either side of the spot when James had rested his paw. If she wasn’t mistaken she had felt a slight scar running across the leather of the briefcase. Like someone had carefully sealed a patch of extremely fine, thin leather. It occurred to her it was over something. A hole maybe, but it didn’t feel that way. There was something being hidden. Carter was sure of it. But how could she remove or open up the scar and pull back the leather patch?

“Well, boys, what should your Mum do next? Any suggestions.” All three of them pounced on the briefcase and began to scratch at the spot James had discovered. Carter let them continue. She was concerned they might mark up the briefcase but she was more interested in what was under that flap of leather, less about any damage her babies might do. It looked like they were making progress. A slight bit of leather started to peel away from the surface of the case. Jasper was having the most success. Jax was pulling back to watch his brother and James was rubbing up against his Mum, feeling rather satisfied he had pleased her with his brilliance at detection.

The patch was giving way. More was starting to peel back. Carter joined in with Jasper. Between the two of them they had almost pulled back the patch enough to get a glimpse of what was underneath. It looked like a combination of letters and numbers. The surface was barely visible but enough to see those numbers and letters were important to know. They were determined even if they had to work all night to finish uncovering them.

Morning had finally arrived. They had succeeded at their task in uncovering what appeared to be a combination of sorts. There were letters and numbers on the surface from under the patch. They were all mixed up together but not in any sensible order that Carter could see.

And that is it for today’s letter. Next time, we will think about whether we will reveal what the letters and numbers are. Do they spell out a word or words and are the numbers in some way a combination to a lock. If a lock, to what? Is curiosity sufficiently peaked?

This is fun, Annie, teasing you this way. I know you are not getting to appreciate my tale so far but maybe I will start to send my letters to you once we have established a working relationship.

It feels so near. Dr. George is losing it rather quickly. His brain is starting to unravel to a breaking point where has begun not making much sense for the past few weeks. The pressure is showing. How could he not know he is fucking up. I see a bad future for him. Lots of trouble coming his way. In what form, my crystal ball hasn’t revealed that to me yet.

Lastly, I just have one more thought about Kristina moving away. It just feels like whenever I get close to anyone, they always seem to disappear. It is becoming more than a regular occurrence not to mean something Karmically. What is all this loss supposed to teach me? What I learn is life is painful and getting close to people is dangerous for them and me. Life altering events surround getting to know anyone close enough to care, to feel attached and to love them. I wouldn’t stop doing it no matter the pain. If I find myself attracted to someone in whatever way it occurs, I know that I cannot turn away. When the feelings kicks in, the forces of nature become too irresistible. I feel a rush from the closeness. An impossible state of being to explain, really. Just feels incredibly intense.

My lesson for the day is to love when given the gift of a person entering your life, particularly if they are as wonderful as the people I have been given in my life. I would not give one of them up no matter the pain my heart feels and the tears that have been shed when losing them. My grandmother and Tosh were the most painful to lose. I feel them with me when I need them. I know they protect me. They guard me against the darkness, even when its haunting is severe and overwhelming. We will talk to you about the darkness some other time.

Remember what I share with you, Annie. I believe we are going to get to know you. It is in the Tarot cards, and the world placed us together. How can anyone resist the Fates. When they use their powers to shift the direction of the winds in order that we meet. In the exact moment, the exact place, we both entered on the same day, time and place. One does not fight a force so powerful. It is meant to be. So, now, we must act accordingly.

That is all I have for today. It seems to be enough for now.


ATTENTION ANNIE: At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Madison Taylor

Fantasy Sets for Film: BRIEF SACRIFICE with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. {played by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS} Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS

brief sacrifice mansion-film set  723x458

film Brief Sacrifice mansion where main character Carter McLeod lives with her three Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James.

brief sacrifice library living room fireplace  970x546

film Brief Sacrifice library living room fireplace in mansion where Carter McLeod lives with her three Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James.

James-a neutered male Savannah Cat lounging on sofa  645x499

film Brief Sacrifice James is one of three neutered male Savannah Cats, Carter McLeod has as her companions. He is enjoying a good lounge on his favorite sofa.

Peter Illyich Tchaikovsky Francesca da Rimini, Op. 32 (Fedoseyev) 25 min.

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif

Sounds of the Hunger
Written by Madison Taylor
January 28th 2008

Sounds of “the hunger”
— a sensual response.
Shadow & soul bring immortality
as they both sing.
And in rhyming harmonies
their story they bring.
Alive with words of tales
from bells that ring.
Of truth unfolding out
from the Green of Spring.
A new rebirth is offered
and received in welcoming arms.
Away — fly away
following the offering
of many things.
Off you go
upon the strength
of a passing butterflies
gliding wings.

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Lakme (excerpt) Delibe

le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013   824x552

Le Chateau de Rocher is the home of Madison and Scottie & their three cats Mikey Toker & Patrick

english garden off the back marble patio  972x732

English garden off the back marble patio

bedroom perfect high windows lightScottie & Madison’s bedroom. Spacious & grand. The bed is usually shared
with their three cats Mikey, Toker & Patrick.

QUOTATIONS from Private Writings

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — Anonymous

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #17 — Infatuation to Fantasy

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #17 — Infatuation to Fantasy
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Intro and First Letter Published March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 9th July 2013


Private Writings: Chapter #17 — Infatuation to Fantasy

Tuesday, January 22nd, 2008

Dear Annie,

Tales of my history has been greatly exaggerated. Not really. I never talk about it. Once I made the mistake of making a list of sex partners. I do not include abusers, pedophiles. That wasn’t sex. It had nothing to do with sex. They were all about abuse, power and control. Overpowering a child, what the fuck is that. You really are showing your sexual prowess. Not really. More like your sexual impotency and powerlessness. There is nothing in me feeling empathy for a pedophile. They are are lower than the scum on scum of the scum of the earth.

I made the list. Don’t we all. If not on paper, at least in our heads. Mine, I needed to write down, otherwise, I would lose count. The length or number of partners is created by a mix of sexual abuse and bipolar hyper-sexuality. Which when I look back and compare behavior with symptoms I am aware of today, match up perfectly with a combination of complex-PTSD and Bipolar competing in a challenge. Results are, who can create the most havoc, do the most damage and instill the most shame.

I am a card carrying lesbian. It has nothing to do with my abuse, bipolar or not getting love from my mother, father or anyone in my family except one. So when sex officially starts for me, on the record, my earlier male sex partners, I promise this could be a long story, but right to the point, I will state, all turned out to be gay. It is funny if you think about it. My abusers were from both sexes, all qualify as pedophiles but I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of considering or registering them as gay or lesbian. Being gay or lesbian is an honour. I would include in this group, transsexuals, bisexuals, asexuals, pansexuals, and even our friendly heterosexuals.

Excluded are homophobic-sexuals, fundamentalist-sexuals, evangelical-sexuals, westboro southern baptist-hatred-sexuals, tea bagger-sexuals, homophobic-homosexuals-in-the-closet-sexuals-who-hate-homosexuals & pass-laws-to-make- homosexuality-or-any-sexuality-illegal-hate-women’s-rights-sexuals, and chicken-shit-republicans-who-haven’t-the-guts-or-balls-to-stand-up-to-the-mother-fuckers. This may not cover all of them but touches on some of the basic haters of anything sexual. Ah, one more inclusive group, those-who-think & feel-they-have-the-rights-over-womens-bodies & can-do-what-they-want-including-mutilation-murder-&-honour-killing-mother-fuckers.

Now back to something pleasant. My first gay bar, I ran into a guy I went to college with and yes we did the euphemism of sleeping together. We had sex. We worked on the college paper. He was my top editor when I was editor-in-chief. Now, back to the present. Here comes the stupid question. “What are you doing here?” He laughed, with his shit eating grin. “Are you kidding?” was his reply. “The same thing you are.”

Now how stupid am I. We were both there. It was a gay and lesbian bar. Dancing and booze, drugs on the down-low. Pretty much everyone was stoned out of their fucking minds on weed, poppers, hallucinogens, anything available. It was floating around the room or outside, you could find clusters smoking grass or hash. Before crack, thank you very much. All we wanted was a safe place to enjoy our major attractions, the same sex.

My buddy from college talked with me a long time that night. Found out the strangest things in our conversation. Turned out, he slept with the same guy I called my toker smoker sex buddy. With him I had a basic arrangement. He supplied the music, the smoke, the place and I would supply the sex. Not knowing about the bipolar proclivity to hyper-sexuality back then, I would safely say now I fell deeply into the category of someone who was hyper-sexual. It may have been the wrong sex but it was a need I had to satisfy. Never liked it, but did it anyway. Felt nothing. That’s not totally honest. Once, when I had the top, I got a major surprise. That was the first and only time ever. When you’ve being raped that position isn’t something rapists use. When he is fucking you he wants to see the damage he is causing and the power he is wielding.

I need a good, no, a great psychoanalyst. You, Annie. Dr. George is not long for my world. When he’s gone, I need you. He needs to disappear. Gone. Cleansed from my brain. Then I start new with you. You need to come through for me. Please.

Maybe a change of subject is needed. I don’t want to think about him or his fucking prick. I want to talk about something else. Someone else. Sarah. Her presence almost gave me a heart attack. What the fuck was he thinking springing her on the group. Don’t misunderstand. I want her there, Oh, most definitely. When she started talking, I could barely breath. My eyes were on her. Her voice, her hair, the colour of her eyes, so blue, every feature. I time traveled. Then those words she spoke. Nearly fell on the floor. She announced, “I am a lesbian.” At that very moment I fell in love. It’s not like she wasn’t looking at me with something special in her own eyes. I would swear she was flirting with me like she knew me.

What the fuck came over me. She’s so familiar. I know her. I’m sure of it. But my brain has amnesia. Why is she so fucking familiar? And another thing, I can’t seem to stop swearing. My anger is seething through every pore. I want to punch someone, I am so angry. I think it’s this film we’re working on. Scottie’s always away. I hate that.

I’m going to change the subject for a moment. I think it’s time to tell you the title of our film. I came up it one night. It just floated from my subconscious when I was talking with Scottie. I just said, “Stop! I got it. The film’s name is “Brief Sacrifice.” Tell me that isn’t cool, Scottie.” She liked it. Then she fell in love with the title. But, damn it, it’s taking Scottie away all the time now. There have been some weird problems. I think there’s a curse on the film. That damned briefcase.

You will never guess how the main character got it open. Before I tell you part of the secret, I think you need to know the main character’s name. I told you the title, I might as well fill you in on some other details, Her name, which I feel is quite brilliant of me and Scottie did help. In fact, she helped a lot. She said, she liked the name I decided on. After throwing out names I found online for hours. I found it. Her name is Carter McLeod. She’s British and simply divine. The films takes place in London, mostly, and a few other places. But not going there yet. Now isn’t that the coolest name. I see a future for her. Carter McLeod. I just love the sound of it. And now, I know you will want to know who’s playing Carter McLeod. Scottie decided on one of my favorite new British actors. Try to guess. I’ll give you a hint. She was nominated for a BAFTA for Best Actress in 2007. Yes, she was. She should have won. I think she was robbed. I can’t even remember who beat her. Let me put you out of your misery. My all time favorite actor right now. It’s Jamie Stansfield. I just dream about her. Beautiful, androgynous and sexy. Knowing she is playing the character I wrote is such a satisfying feeling. It’s sure to draw a huge audience. But back to what’s going on with that damned briefcase.

There is a secret pocket hidden on the surface of the leather. Undetectable. But Carter just kept running her hands over the surface, feeling for anything unusual. It’s like she were psychic. She found a thin line, like an old scar. It didn’t happen right away. Finding it, you would think was the difficult part. No, it wasn’t. How to get underneath the surface of the skin of the case, that was a whole other nightmare. That’s for next time I write.

I gave you the character’s name, and told you who the actor is playing the part. She really is great. Whenever I was on the set during the filming, I couldn’t believe Scottie got her to sign the contract. But Scottie can charm anyone, she’s so gorgeous and radiant, such a subtle quiet charm. Plus Scottie Andrews has the director’s touch, and everyone knows it, and wants to work with her. She melts everybody who meets, female and male, but hands off, she’s mine. I’ll scratch anyone’s eyes out that try to come between us.

It just came to me. I must be losing my mind. I just realized who Sarah is. Damned idiot, I am. She’s Sarah Prentice. She made at least two films with Scottie. She’s acted the words I’ve written. Oh, my god, how the hell could I forget who she is. She looks so much like Tosh. Like they were twins. You do know who Alison Porter is, right? No one breathed a word. I know they were recent films. My short term memory is too fucked up. The films haven’t been released yet. That’s why. Post-production. Scottie works on so many films. I can’t keep track. Even if I’m the one writing them. Once in her hands, I only check in when rewrites are needed. I do like some of the sets but not great about being around people. And when they’re famous, the crowds gather and that really freaks me out. Usually stay home and Skype or email the changes. Talk on Skype with Scottie all the time that way. Holy, shit. Sarah Prentice. I am in love with her.

You did know who Tosh was.Sarah is so much like her. Tosh was a singer. She composed her own music. It was so poetic. The lyrics crushed your heart. Where she found that pain. I only knew her such a short time. I never mentioned why we met or how. At least, I don’t think I did. Scottie approached her about using some of her music in one of her films. I keep saying her films. I feel they are our films. If she didn’t have my story and words, there wouldn’t be a film. I digress. Sorry. Scottie contacted Tosh’s manager or one of her people did. But Scottie talked directly with Tosh. They hit it off. She liked Scottie’s films. Anyway, Scottie invited her to our home for dinner. Over champagne, tokes of smoke, and great Italian cuisine, we both fell in love with her. Now, don’t worry about Scottie. Tosh was someone special but I wasn’t going to ever leave Scottie for anyone, no matter what I felt. Tosh, though, she tore my heart out. I was so in love. It was so special. She didn’t want sex. She wanted to show me what love was. Scottie is shy and she loves me but it wasn’t the same thing.

How do I explain when you meet a soul mate that you’ve known through a hundred lifetimes. That was Tosh. Scottie and I are new in our life times. We debated in past lives. Like great philosophers who could never convince the other of their conclusions as being the one that had the right answers or at least, the most accurate of conclusions. We were philosophers together. Tosh was Sappho. She was the lover of women. She knew the melody, the poetry, how to tenderly touch inside your soul, without ever touching any part of your flesh. She respected my restrictions. Her sensitivity picked up my reluctance to have physical contact. Scottie, also, understood that restriction. We did make love, Scottie and I, but I always had to stop. It just freaked me out. Scottie promised she could accept that from me. She would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. It’s just that, I can’t do anything.

Tosh reached me in other ways. I wrote about her kiss. It was light as a butterfly on your naked skin. It didn’t threaten. It was as far away from forceful as one could find. She wrote music for me. I listen to it all the time. It is part of the memory that I have left of her.

I am tired. This is all I can write this week. I will add one thing. Seeing Sarah makes me feel like there is promise for the future. Not everything is about loss.

Now you just have to stay on my side and help me heal. I need deep healing from someone who can reach inside of me the way your feelings do. I trust you Annie. Don’t ever go away.

That is all I have to give for now. Wow. How amazing is life.


ATTENTION ANNIE: At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Madison Taylor

Fantasy Sets for Film: BRIEF SACRIFICE with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. {played by BAFTA Nominated Actor JAMIE STANSFIELD} Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS

brief sacrifice mansion-film set  723x458

Brief Sacrifice mansion — film set

brief sacrifice --- rustic den film set  768x579

Brief Sacrifice — rustic den film set

brief sacrifice  jasper-jax & james in foreground  savannah kittens when they were 4 weeks old  705x818

Brief Sacrifice — Jasper — Jax & James in foreground — Savannah kittens when they were 4 weeks old – grown up in film

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

flowing liquid gold (1)it’s flowing liquid gold

4p a world in tree greena world in tree green

hands reaching out into rain

Infatuation To Fantasy
By Madison Taylor
January 21st 2008

A star sparkling in my presence
Heat and fire escape from her eyes
Wildness – courage and strength
Pour from her soul
Calling out to me
Noticing me as I notice her
Feeling her touch
Caressing softly-a feather’s down

A bird sits on my shoulder
Speaking her language
Whispering into my ear
Translating her messages
As she meant them for me
Such personal meanings
Making me blush
A hue of pale cardinal
The quickness of blood
Rushing the surface of my flesh
So secret in meaning
Attempts to comprehend the crypticism
Expressing my shyness
As she mimics my spirit

My hesitancy to approach
The newness inside of us
Though powerful in character
Certain reservations necessary
Need not rush
No need to overwhelm
Subtlety is more sensuous
Building to a slow crescendo
Oh-so much more enticing
The intrigue has time to grow
Developing in slow motion

Sensations growing inside
Building outward
Climbing higher
Touching the center
My body’s restrictions releasing
Allowing entrance to secrets
Releasing dreams
Creating meaning

My throat’s breathing
In shallow motions
Sounds effecting my senses
Opening the pathway
Wanting to scream
Holding back
Becoming too restrictive
Overtaking control
Release happens
Pleasure surrendered
Now falling backwards
Overcome by falling
Relaxation overwhelming
The awakened state slipping away
Morpheus calling out for dreams
Eyes close in the darkness
Unconsciousness drifting
Lifting floating body
Awareness liberated
Sleep thoroughly attained

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher is the home of Madison and Scottie and their three cats Mikey, Toker and Patrick

le chateau de rocher art gallery

Le Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery

QUOTATIONS from Private Writings

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poe


“The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive.” ― Rick Riordan, The Last Olympian

“Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn’t stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren’t having any of those.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes” ― Vladimir Nabokov

“What she had realised was that love was that moment when your heart was about to burst.” ― Stieg Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

“When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.” ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

“I feel intensely about the physical form of the female body. The smooth caressing line of the breasts. Followed by all parts of a woman are so soft and touchable. The heights one can take the sensations when making love. With a therapist who is male, they do not have this form that causes desire to bloom. It is just plain out inappropriate behavior and throw in a touch of sexual harassment to boot. I don’t want to see any man’s junk unless it is on screen and only if it is actually quite lovely. But I do not want my analyst going anywhere near that subject matter unless I am talking about an abuser raping me. Enough said.” — Madison Taylor, Letters of Import: Infatuation To Fantasy 17


entering the soul connection

The Soul Connection

play is not just play meryl streep

Soul’s Comedy

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one

Soul’s Comedy
X-treme Haiku by Jennifer Kiley
Created Friday 5th July 2013
Abstract Digital Art by j. kiley
Posted Saturday 6th July 2013

soul's comedy by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013   716x543

soul’s comedy by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

Rising Spirit
X-treme Haiku
By Jennifer Kiley
Friday 5th July 2013

Awakening words
Slow motion quick reaction
Waiting needs reassurance

Darkness echoes screams
Wails release in death’s lament
Hands pressing skull screaming ends

Time slips laughter starts
Responding smile vanishes
Forming balance bends sideways

Claw upward to view
Crash downward head cracks open
Bleeding wounded covers scars

Fucking words talking
Anger buried real nightmares
Shameful needs must want loving

Broken hearts longing
Vulnerability true
Joyful river flowing through

Awaken faith new
Heart touches soul love enters
Sweet song of rising spirit

© jennifer kiley 2013

Camille Saint-Saëns – Danse Macabre


“In that book which is my memory,
On the first page of the chapter
that is the day when I first met you,
Appear the words, ‘Here begins a new life’.”
― Dante Alighieri, Vita Nuova

“The mind which is created quick to love,
is responsive to everything that is pleasing,
soon as by pleasure it is awakened into activity.
Your apprehensive faculty draws an impression from a real object,
and unfolds it within you, so that it makes the mind turn thereto.
And if, being turned, it inclines towards it, that inclination is love;
that is nature, which through pleasure is bound anew within you.”
― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

“The more a thing is perfect,
the more if feels pleasure and pain.”
― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

“I found myself within a forest dark,
for the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Ah me! How hard a thing is to say,
what was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
which in the very thought renews the fear.
So bitter is it, death is little more…”
― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

“There is no greater sorrow
than to recall happiness in times of misery.”
― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

“When any of our faculties retains a strong impression of delight or pain,
the soul will wholly concentrate on that, neglecting any other power it has;
and thus, when something seen or heard secures the soul in stringent grip,
time moves and yet we do not notice it.” ― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

“Those ancients who in poetry presented the golden age,
who sang its happy state, perhaps, in their Parnassus,
dreamt this place. Here, mankind’s root was innocent;
and here were every fruit and never-ending spring;
these streams–the nectar of which poets sing.”
― Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one

The Power of Vulnerability

tell me a story
The Power of Vulnerability
TED Talk:
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created 3rd July 2013
Posted Thursday 4th July 2013

Celebration Follows Video!!!

THE POWER OF VULNERABILITY is Quite Good. Listen Carefully. Take It To Heart.

Brené Brown: The power of vulnerability
June 2010 — She is a real storyteller. Fascinating to listen to. Tells a good story.

Now for Independence Day in the US
Noise to Scare Animals
Always Fireworks To Scare The Animals Without Fail

Veggie Burger w/ Vegetables on It For Me. More Vegetables in the Form of Fries & Potato Salad on the Side. I don’t think we exactly thought that one through all the way. Fries & P.S. Hmmm? Coke. No Not That Kind. Which Kind Did You Think I Meant When I Said Not That Kind? Just Curious. The Kind I Am Talking About Gives Me A Buzz. What Kind Were You Thinking? Mine Is Not White. It’s Brown. Dark Brown.

Now Shawn Hadn’t As of Now Decided What She Wants. Probably A Salad with Vegetables. Maybe Beer. I’ll Tell Her She Should Treat Herself. Maybe There Will Be Some Guacamole. Saki, Our Parrot Not Allowed. Poisonous.

Me, If I Need It — Two Shots of Jose Cuervo with Salt & Lime Slices. My Therapist Gave Me A Verbal Prescription. Tequila Is As Close To Drugs Without Taking Drugs. That Statement Is Deja Vu. I Said That A Long Time Ago. It Just Re-echoed In the Now.


How About Some Fireworks???

London Fireworks 2012 in full HD – New Year Live – BBC One

Bonnie Tyler — I Need A Hero

GREAT SCENE: V for Vendetta (finale)

Making Love Out of Nothing At All — Bonnie Tyler

And Now For A Lesson
In The Power of Vulnerability.
It Is Not A Fault
To Be Vulnerable.
Opening One To Feelings
And Love
And Intimacy

Being Rejected Can Hurt
When You Allow Yourself
To Be Vulnerable
And The Other Person
Turns Away Or Runs Away.
One Takes Chances
And Surrenders

A Bipolar Moment
When A Dark Stormy Night
Can Be Just That
And Fear Fills Your Being
All Seems To Have Disappeared
It Is The Night After All
The Universe Is Empty

English novelist Iris Murdoch said,
“Love is the very difficult understanding
that something other than yourself is real.”

“I use to feel completely alone
At night in the Great Massive Universe.
Feeling alone in the Universe
Is very scary
And can be quite terrifying.
Only through the continuous reassurances
From those who loved me
And I loved in return
Did I start accepting
The realization that when I was alone
There were still other persons
In the Universe
And they loved me.”
Jennifer Kiley
— Letters of Import:
Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

Well Last Night
Was One Of Those Nights
I Felt Completely Alone
And I Didn’t Feel
Like Anyone Was Out There.
I Felt This Way Instead
In The Following Words
Maybe It Is A Poem
Or Just Words Reaching Out
On A Dark Stormy Night
While Having A Bipolar

It Is A Dark Night.
The Knife Is In My Chest.
My Heart Is Bleeding
And The Wound Won’t Heal.
My Life Is In Your Hands.
Don’t Let Me Slip Away
Into Oblivion.
One Can’t Return
From There.
It Is A One Way Trip.
Small Comfort
For Those
Who Are
To Travel.




Healing Thoughts for the People of the World

Private Writings: Chapter #16 — Aggravating Behavior

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #16 — Aggravating Behavior
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
First Published March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 2nd July 2013


Private Writings: Chapter #16 — Aggravating Behavior

Tuesday January 15th, 2008

Dear Annie,

I think Annie, I know why I wrote such an emotionally intense letter last week. It is Amelie. Her joining the therapy group last week really disarmed me. There was no notice or warning of a new member starting the first of the year. Our glorious leader, Dr. George, yes, I am using his given name, fuck Mr. Xxx, he deserves to be identified. He failed to ask whether we wanted someone new.

Seems the Doctor wants full control or he would have mentioned her and not made the decision on his own. This group has full rights to decide if someone joins at any time. Writing this is not to complain about Amelie. She mesmerizes me. It is Dr. George’s lack of inquiry with us. To late, it’s done. Not appropriately, but déjà fait. He bloody displeases me, not Alison.

Amelie triggers memories of Tosh. Their resemblance is beyond uncanny. And her boldness is refreshing. No hesitation to proclaim herself a lesbian. But I saw her depth of attraction and knew. Sensed it in her gaze when her eyes caught mine, in a timeless moment. Her eyes were steady. All I knew was the feeling from Amelie felt as though Tosh’s eyes were loving me. The time portal opened to the past.

Who is Amelie? Where did she come from? And why now? The pressure is building up inside of me. Not sure I’m handling it well. I feel like my world is about to explode. Flashing on Tosh’s murder. Getting attached to you. Not knowing if I will lose you if this all crash and burns. Now Amelie, a ghost, a practical joke, Dr. George, the bastard, is fucking with me. He knows what Tosh looks like, and magically Amelie springs up.

I’m sure you’ve notices the group is in disaster mode. Dying and almost dead as Jacob Marley’s Ghost. It’s in a retrograde of self-destruction. Hold it together, Annie, please, just long enough, or it will disintegrate by the hand of Machiavelli, himself, Dr. George. Maybe it should self-destruct. Solves one major problem. Poof! Dr. George disappears. So does everyone else in this miserable group. Exceptions are Amelie and Kristina. Soon, I will tell you about Kristina. Right now, I’m just waiting for Mount Vesuvius to erupt. That would be Brad, my totally rad alter. He’s not afraid of anyone. Plus he promised me Dr. George is going down. Soon. The time is near.

He sucks as a analyst. He’s not deserving of the honour of calling him a psychoanalyst or doctor. What a joke. He’s so out of touch, I don’t think he knows he’s treating clients. But, it’s his job to listen. Instead, he monopolizes a session by telling his own stories. It’s negligence and even worse, his stories are sexually perverse, going into detail about gay male sex. Please do not misunderstand, I am not homophobic. That’s not it, it’s that he tells these stories to me, when we are alone. I am a lesbian client, I emphasize, and an abuse survivor . His other clients, some share similar backgrounds. I, certainly, have no desire to hear about balls, or a man’s prick. Who the fuck wants to hear that kind of bull shit.

His sense of protocol is fucking aggravating. It’s inappropriate. Clearly sexual harassment, he thrusts upon female sexual abuse survivors. Having my analyst compound his ignorance with the subject at all is disgusting and depraved. The only appropriate time would be if I were talking about an abuser raping me. Enough with the perverse humour. Dr. George’s list of disgusting behavior grows longer, probably unlike his dick. It’s not my thing. Being raped by pricks do not make lesbians appreciate the existence of dicks, nor do they fantasize hearing about them or seeing them. Does he forget or not understand that element of our experiences?

I just need to end my therapy with him completely. His relationship with me is a travesty. He’s outrageous, obnoxious and destructive in our private sessions. Plainly, he is just a disappointment. He doesn’t even pretend any longer not to support me. He sides with his pets in the group, particularly Angie, who gets on my last nerve. I dread seeing them both. And God forbid I should question her intentions or prejudices or anyone elses.

In a private session, only recently, when I accused Angie, his precious fucking pet snake of being a homophobe and racist, he came down on me, accusing me of being cruel and unfeeling. His evil seethed through his teeth as he tried destroying me with his words. Turning me in on myself, made me out to be the insensitive one. Every fiber and muscle in my body struggled with my mind, trying to walk out in the middle of his vicious outbreak of rage, but instead stillness set in. His verbal abuse caused such extreme fright, I became catatonic.

That was the final time I ever intend to allow him to rape my mind again. Next time, instead of facing me down, he will meet Brad, in his fully engaged rage. Dr. George will finally be laid out. Don’t worry, no one is going to do violence. But I would definitely make a grand exit, quite Gloria Swanson, but with a male flair and the burst of a fiery rage. And it truly would be the last one. You will know it and you will hear it, when it is over.

A word of encouragement from you, Annie, would help push me over that line to find my courage. His condescension in our private sessions should be enough. But I am too insecure to terminate without feeling support to catch me. An abusive relationship has gradually been created with him and I did not stop it when I realized what was happening. I let it take over my world. He makes me feel like the abusers did. I float on the ceiling to escape him and become powerless.

It always bothered me that he reminded me of an abuser. He used transference in place of accepting his role in creating my feelings of insecurity and making me feel I wasn’t seeing what I felt as being accurate. He was being abusive, constantly undermining my sense of identity and confidence. My belief in trusting my own feelings. My writing came to almost a stand still after starting to see him. My soul felt strangled. My muse abandoned me for an indefinite length of time. I fell into the deepest depression. Started having increasingly stronger panic and anxiety attacks and the depression led to feeling suicidal most of the time. How many times I felt so close to the edge, were far too many.

Just the thought that the next day I would have to see him freaked me out. I would start to shake and found it hard to breathe. He would rationalize it by saying I was afraid of therapy and what disturbing memories might come up. Bull shit. He is such a fuck head and liar. He wanted to have power over me. Sound familiar, it is exactly what abusers do to the children they abuse. Win their confidence and then slowly undermine their sense of self as an independent person, until the abuser can do anything they want with their prize possessions. Does he get his kicks having power over his clients, controlling them and how they feel inside. Making them want to kill themselves. Life and death. What an ultimate power trip.

Somehow, Scottie broke through the barrier.It was built up high and strong to protect myself. She fought with me to see reality. That I was having delusional thinking. For years she has driven me insane with her persistent urges to get me to stop seeing him. Deep inside I knew she was trying to protect me, but I was too frightened to walk away. I felt too crazy and feared leaving him would cause me to completely lose my mind. Talk about control or confusion. What was I letting him do to me? What was I doing to myself staying with him? Fear is my only excuse or reason. Terror. I was too terrified to live or to leave. Life was too frightening. I trembled at the thought of being part of the world. Going out. Being around people. Pure panic.

Now I want to make him disappear and group to end. Working with you, Annie, would be a great alternative. There is only one thing that would be fucked up if this all collapsed, which it will. Amelie, if it all ends, she would be gone. How will I be able to get to know her. There has got to be a way to make some kind of personal connection before it happens. Everything will crumble when I confront him. Not sure exactly when and how I’m going to do it. But it will happen and I’ve got to be lethal.

I don’t want Amelie to go away. It may seem odd. I met her last week, I’ve seen her twice. Yet, there is an intense need to know her. Jennie Fields, a character I love from the John Irving book, The World According to Garp, says this two word phrase. It cracks me up. She would look someone straight in the eyes and seriously state, “It’s lust.” As simple as that. “It’s lust.” I am in lust with Amelie. It’s a really strong attraction. Not something I have any way of explaining but say I am attracted to her.

Well, fuck it if I am. Amelie rocks my world at this very moment. Nothing wrong with those feelings. But, seriously, it feels more meaningful than an orgasmic connection. She reminds me of Tosh. I can’t let that go. There is something between us. I’m not letting her walk into my life so fucking briefly and not have a say as she walks back out again.

Don’t you think she’s awesome. She has me awestruck. I am numb in the brain. My feelings are all muttled around her. I can’t think or speak in a complete sentence without tangling up the words. You noticed that, I’m sure. It’s embarrassing, especially in front of that group from the vicious circle.

We need to figure this all out. I need your help, Annie. Please, let me assure you, do not worry about Scottie. She understands my bipolar. I have attractions but I can’t do anything about them. In due time, I will explain what Scottie fully knows about me. I don’t share with many this secret. That’s why Scottie trusts me.

Before I end my letter, I want to remind you of the secret from a few letters ago. Lets end this letter on a mysterious but still high note. It involves Scottie’s new film. Mine, too. Still working on finalizing the title. I don’t know what the problem is with making a decision. I liked my choice but can’t tell you yet. Maybe next time I’ll have a go.

But that’s not what I want to tell you. I, actually, want to tell you a bit more about the film. I’d like to sound it out on you further. See if it sounds like a good script. Would love the feedback. How about if I write a touch about it each week. A sneak preview when I remember. That would benefit me too. I would hear what it is that I have created. Bounce it off of you. Maybe I will feel more confident about my work.

In review, I remember telling you the lead character is a novelist, the character’s name, I will tell in a future letter. She is quite the brilliant writer. What else did I tell you. I lost it. Sorry. That’s all I remember from the other letter. Have a terrible memory, even for what I write.

Well, let me continue. She is a literary novelist, mixed with a touch of the psychological element and a dabble of mystery. Her problem is she can’t find a publisher. Just finds rejection notices in her mailbox but doesn’t give up. She keeps sending out her novels. She’s accumulated several manuscripts already. If it weren’t for the Estate her Grandmother left her after she died, our author wouldn’t be able to afford the luxury of being a full time writer. The wonderful home she lives in, with her three babies, was her grandmother’s home. You’ll meet the babies later. She spent many weeks there, every summer, when growing up. It was her favorite place on the planet.

One weekend, she goes to an Estate Sale. While rummaging around, she finds a briefcase. It’s an old leather one with a broken lock, jammed shut, with no way to look inside. She made the decision, it looked mysterious. Her thought was, it would be a great place to store her latest manuscript. She purchased it, not even sure she will ever be able to open it, ever. But she thought, if she was unsuccessful, it would make a great decoration, plus an uncanny inspiration for her writing room. It would add to the old English decor. But, she was certain, being quite a stubborn woman herself, she wouldn’t give up without a real attempt to break it open. It wasn’t her intention to give up trying that easily.

After returning home from a long drive, once in the house, she placed her new find on the dining room table while she went to feed the cats. The three, of them, practically knocked her down, when she came in the front door. Once Jasper, Jax and James were fed, the three young neutered male Savannah cats, spotted like leopards, enormous in size, all settled down in the family room. Snuggling, each in their special place, taking up most of the stuffed, soft, velvet sofa. They waiting for their Mum, while she fixed herself a quick bite to eat, for her own early dinner.

She was hurrying. Her curiosity wanted to get cracking on breaking inside her new acquisition. It may be old, but it was heavy, and definitely felt the weight of being filled with something, maybe a treasure of unknown value, so she fantasized. “Why would someone just abandon this briefcase? It gave off the vibe of containing something of value”

The answer would be found out soon enough. Carrying the briefcase under her left arm, and a plate, with a simple meal of salad and cheese, in her right hand, she joined her babies, Jasper, Jax and James, in the family room. She got cozy, finding her spot on the sofa, snuggling amongst her soft, sweet babies.

She studied the briefcase on the coffee table as she ate, and shared treats with her brood. Her imagination began to wander. It filled up with all sorts of magical imagery. What would she find? What should she wish for? Money or something more imaginative?

That’s where I’ll end it for this week. I want to keep you wondering.

Until next time.


ATTENTION ANNIE: At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Madison Taylor

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif

Reaching Out
Written by Madison Taylor
January 14th 2008

Reaching out a hand with a flower in it
Is not verging upon hysteria waiting for a sign
Has life frightened away wanting tenderness
Or the fragile one who is patiently waiting
Will a response be returned in recognition
Of a genuine gesture of love and friendship
Or does the heart identify with one of those characters
Wanting and needing attention who will be lost without it
In the wilderness of lost dreams and nightmares
Forever wandering wondering what was missed
What path was it meant to take but turned the other way

Reaching for the stars shining high up in the darkness
The farthest thing away from reaching a heart desired
Turning around and going deep inside the soul
There is where the heart will find a resting place
Part of all in the world have turned away
Losing all sense of day or night or play
Talk for a moment about all the dreams
Seeking them takes the mind away from finding them
They are before the eyes right here inside the soul
Inside of every thought and feeling the heart possesses
Out there is only the illusion of what will not be found

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

CREAM: WHITE ROOM — Theme Song #16 For Private Writings: Chapter #16 — Aggravating Behavior

le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013   824x552Le Chateau de Rocher is the home of Madison and Scottie & their three cats Mikey, Toker and Patrick

the white room  768x776

The White Room

QUOTATIONS from: Private Writings

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poe


“Never hide things from hardcore thinkers. They get more aggravated, more provoked by confusion than the most painful truths.” ― Criss Jami

“He is being nibbled to death by ducks. –More Later, Less the Same” ― James Tate, Selected Poems

“I suppose an analyst not getting that you are the client and he should be listening to you, not telling his own stories and being sexually perverse talking about gay sex with a lesbian who has not desire to hear about balls, and not the kind you find being tossed about on a playground, but the kind that go with the package of junk men have. Don’t misunderstand, a cliche, but one of my best friends is a gay male. This is aggravating and if I thought about, it also borders on inappropriate behavior and sexual harassment. Michael Fassbender can show his junk. It is actually quite lovely, but I don’t want my analyst going anywhere near that subject unless I am talking about an abuser raping me. Enough said.” — Madison Taylor, Letters of Import: Aggravating Behavior 16

“I suppose I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really.” — Tennessee Williams

“When you reach for the stars, you are reaching for the farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself, it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe.” — ― Vera Nazarian

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #15 — Lost Memory Only Buried

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #15 — Lost Memory Only Buried
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Music Video “Somewhere” by Jennifer Kiley
First Published March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 25th June 2013


Private Writings: Chapter #15: — Lost Memory Only Buried

Tuesday January 8th, 2008

Dear Annie,

You have finally returned. It is time to tell you why the separation from you hurts. It’s about someone who was the world to me. She haunts me. I feel her presence. I will never let her go, ever. Everyone wants me to put her behind me. I can’t. I don’t want to, ever. She’s my life. My soul. Our love is forever. It will never be over. I want you to understand why.

Her name is Tosh.

I want you to hear this Tosh, though I write it to Annie. Our feelings went beyond the explainable. During our time together, the ending, no one could have seen. It will stun and amaze you. It will bring on a deep sadness. Yet there is a joyful celebration in the emotions we shared. Two women, only knowing the other for such a short time. The intensity burned that strongly. I will tell you what I can so you will understand.

This is for you Tosh from all of me.

Understanding friendship. Tosh, you have such an open mind. I love it when we are together. You let me inside, which helps me to open up. It frightens me telling you about my fear. Yet it makes it easier. Don’t go away or yell at me or punish me for feeling real. That is something you don’t do. And you don’t get all weird about my saying I love you. You know what I mean. It means forever, I will be here for you.

As a child, closeness meant sex. It was going to happen. They would abuse me. Everyone around me. Learning to say no held no meaning. As an adult, I still don’t get heard when I say no. So it means the same thing now as it did when I was a child. I would say no and the abusers wouldn’t stop. I wasn’t allowed to refuse. No meant sexual abuse, brutal beatings or denial of food.

I dared to threaten one of the abusers by telling him if he didn’t stop I was going to tell. His response was an attempt to kill me. Next time he said he would kill my whole family. It’s ironic, my not telling saved the life of another abuser. He proved his words and attempted to run me into our version of Stonehenge. On our property there were these two great, mighty, stones that were on either side of the entrance-way. So easily, they would crush my body. He wanted them to smash into my head first. I was afraid I would die. He changed course a second before turning the vehicle away. He had his huge hand squeezing my throat as he pushed me out in line with the stones. I stood on the running board and looked into the evil, coal black eyes shooting death into me. He uttered his secret words, “No one must know. Ever. Not ever. Or you will die. All will die and you will be the cause.”

Quiet and small as a mouse, I never told. Not then. But as a teenager, that was the beginning of psychotherapy. First time I spoke with someone kind, I felt in shock. Someone listened. She heard the words I spoke out loud. No one died. But on that very day he saw me and he somehow knew. It was my younger brother, later, I trusted him to secrecy. He turned around and lost his mind. Without hesitation he delivered the secret to our parents and somehow the rapist, pedophile knew. With his coal dark eyes he shot hell’s fire through my veins. I never wanted the parents to ever know. They didn’t deserve to know me or what happened to me. By then, I had broken all emotional and familial bonds with them.

My friend Tosh knew my past. She supported my healing and gave me balance. Our friendship was equal. My friend helped me through the fear and inhibitions. Confusion got triggered and doubt overwhelmed me. Our feelings were so intense. It awakened a touch of madness that was in me. Delusions took over and I got lost and felt threatened. Thoughts ran through me that I would lose my friend or already had. The ultimate insecurity, I know. It wouldn’t happen but triggering tricked my mind into an alternate reality. It felt overwhelmingly real and the descent started into the darkness. It slowly crept in at first. This imaginary train arrived to take me away. At the end of the line, there was an announcement, “All passengers depart.”

There was only me. Alone. No one to talk to. I couldn’t. Feelings I couldn’t say out loud. I was stuck there with no way out. This was all in my head. An hallucination of grand proportion. I was going mad. Tosh found me. She knew somehow and rescued me. I felt I was safe with her. My friend was there. We were together. Our souls found their mates.

It wasn’t long after the safety we felt was threatened. We pretended we lived in our own private world. No one could touch us. She taught me about love and what it felt like to be touched. The love that touch could show me. The first time she touched her lips to mine, I felt their delicate caress, as though a butterfly had landed gently on my mouth. The sensation was soft and gentle. My lips melted into hers. We were no longer separate. The start of her body felt like the inside of mine. I never wanted that moment to stop. It was so absorbing and timeless. Never wanted that spell to break. But there was the world that surrounded us. There were people who didn’t want us to have those special moments.

Tosh was my angel. Guarding us from danger. It felt like I was doing that for her. I wanted her untouched by evil. The world I knew too well. I never wanted it to come near her. Not being a Goddess, I never had the power to block the darkness from entering my world. With Tosh being part of my world, it was impossible to prevent her being effected by that evil that followed me. When she was so close to me, it was impossible for it not to touch her.

One dark night, the evil arrived in full force. Out of nowhere and unexpected, it slammed right into us. My unconscious knew through my nightmares. Tosh and I shared the exact nightmares about death being close by, wanting to steal one of us. It was meant to be a violent death. Who had death chosen between us? It is obvious by my writing this letter that I was spared. Spared what? I ask you, what did I gain?

One night while we were out celebrating, we ran into him. The one with the coal dark eyes of the demon from my nightmares and my past. It wasn’t an accident that we met that night. He had been stalking me for years, unknown to me. Just waiting for that moment, he could steal from me, the life he promised long ago to take, if I ever spoke the truth. According to him, I ruined his life. Now, for him, at last, time had arrived for me to pay, to answer his Mephistophelean Agreement. Time had come for him to claim my soul.

I saw it in his hand, as he spoke his black lies. Tosh saw it also. She took hold of my left hand and squeezed it as hard as her strength allowed. My only sense was feeling the energy holding Tosh’s hand. I tried to erase from my mind any thought of this Demon of Darkness standing before us. In his mind, he was going to kill me. His final revenge for stealing my innocence. My life must be sacrificed to bring the ritual to its conclusion. The completion of his perverted fantasy of power over me, a false sense of grandiosity, he never actually possessed.

Tosh taught me that he hadn’t succeeded in stealing my innocence. I had escaped my body whenever he violated it. She was showing me where my innocence was hiding and teaching me how to set it free again. It was a slow process but I was starting to feel it awakening within me. Now that I was opening up again, I was not about to let this piece of shit try to take anything away from me ever again.

He came rushing toward me. The glistening blade in his hand reflected off the street lights. They barely lit the dark. The closer he came the braver I felt. Moments before I could feel him him slip the blade deep inside my flesh. Tosh pushed me to the ground. She stood strong in my place and faced his evil down. He plunged his blade directly into her flesh, deep into her body. She collapsed in seconds, like Tony in West Side Story, Tosh’s favorite movie musical. She collapsed on top of me. Blood pouring out from the severe wound in her stomach. I drew her into my arms. She lay across my lap. The Demon of Darkness abandoned us. Slithering into the night without a sound.

It was the final scene from West Side Story. People from inside the Gay Bar, slowly came out. They surrounded us. I felt the queerest urge to sing “Somewhere, there’s a place for us.” A strong sense in me felt Tosh’s soul preparing to leave her weakening body. She looked into my tear filled eyes. Even now, I felt her trying to take care of me. The word “Sorry” echoed in her mind. Out loud I whispered, “Please, don’t leave me, Tosh.”

People called for help. But there wasn’t any help needed. Tosh was leaving this place. My body leaned in as close as possible. Our lips touched in the magical kiss Tosh had taught me. Her lips caressed mine as I felt Tosh getting weaker. It was difficult for her to hold on. I wanted to be greedy and keep her here with me but I knew I had to let her go. She needed to hear my words, giving her permission.

“Please don’t leave me,” were the only words I could say. Digging deep inside, I pushed down what I wanted. Finally, I was able to tell her, “You can let go. I don’t want you to. I know you need to. I, also, know you won’t do it out of your stubbornness to take care of me. You can’t stay here for me. We will have to find a different way to touch. In my heart, you will be alive. In my mind, my body will be holding you. You will be kissing me. Everything about our being together, I will miss so much. Where you go, remember me. If there’s anyway you can stay around, I know you would be the one who could find it. I’m not letting you go. You will always be in my life. Never, ever, will I forget you. So when you leave it doesn’t mean we are separate or finished. We are meant to be together always, you and I. But now your body can’t be here any longer. Go, I am letting you go now. You must do the same. Please, remember me. Missing you is something I will do the rest of my life. More than you know or I even know. I love you. I will always love you. Never, will you be forgotten. In my writing and my art, I will keep you alive. And you will be part of me forever. Someday, I believe, we will meet as spirits. For now, you will just have to find a way to haunt me and guide me through this life. Goodbye, my friend, my lover, my soul, my life. Remember, I love you Tosh.”

I pulled her into my arms. The tears were falling down my cheeks. I wanted to scream my pain out loud. Her spirit had left. Her soul was free. Her body melted limp into my arms. I pressed it to me and rocked her. The sirens sounded in the distance. It was too late for help. But not the police, they had to find the Demon and take him down. But, I didn’t want to think of him. He was never going to be in my head again.

What I wanted was to feel Tosh. To sense her around me. Her body was lifeless but her spirit, even now, she was still with me. Knowing I wasn’t totally losing her, it gave me a short moment of reassurance. Suddenly, without warning, I went from shock into my grief. All those wonderful thoughts of her soul being with me slipped away. All I felt were waves of pain, overwhelming me physically. And my feelings were scattered and confused. Thinking had disappeared. Reason vanished. Just the intensity of losing my soul filled my entire being. I felt like Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, when all he could do was shout out in rage to Cathy.

“…he cried, with frightful vehemence…may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you—haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

I felt this way after the Demon murdered my love, my friend, my life, my soul. All I could do after her death was to scream. Falling to my knees and screaming became a common ritual. The pain penetrated to the deepest parts of me. Her loss cut into my heart more than I could bare. Eventually, I sensed my feelings were making those around me uncomfortable. According to the rules of grieving, there seems to be an appropriate time when one should have worked through all the stages of grief. Fuck the rules. What I have to say is I never live by the rules and never do anything according to when something should be accomplished. I move inside my own time or outside of time, not according to anyone else’s correctness.

Writing this may have been cathartic, but it has ripped apart a deep wound I don’t believe will ever heal. As Rose Kennedy stated, “It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”

I hope this helps you to understand what I have survived.

Until next time.

Fondly But In Pain,

ATTENTION ANNIE: At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Madison Taylor

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

hands reaching out into rain

Pretending Is Not Just Play
Written by Madison Taylor
January 7th 2008

Pretending is not just play
Pretending takes you out and away
You become whomever you want
Whatever you want
There are no limitations
You can pretend to be sane
When the world inside you
Is ripped apart
Inside a bleeding heart
That never intends to heal

The pain has to be a smile
Pretending to be happy for awhile
Pretending away the madness
No one really can tell the truth
If they question or doubt
In their own minds
They won’t test you
It would mean testing
Their own sanity
No one wants to be insane
At least the sane think so
Do the insane feel the same
Or are they interchangeable

Don’t we pretend everyday
At who we are
It gives a sense of being
Pretending doesn’t change the reality
It just gives it meaning
Pretending does not make it not so
Only not pretending does that
Or not doing stops it all

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif
Tonight – West Side Story – Natalie Wood as Maria – Richard Beymer as Tony
One Hand, One Heart – West Side Story – Natalie Wood as Maria – Richard Beymer as Tony
Somewhere (West Side Story) — Marni Nixon for Natalie Wood — Private Writings: Chapter #15 — LOST MEMORY ONLY BURIED

le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Home to Madison and Scottie and their three cats Mikey, Toker and Patrick

drawing-room  702x699 

QUOTATIONS from: Private Writings

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poe


“Miss someone until they come back, or until you come back, until their absence in your life becomes something to be avoided at all costs. Miss them until you don’t have to anymore, until you’re reunited in your favorite booth in your favorite restaurant ordering your favorite meal, miss them until it feels like you never left. Or miss them until you can’t anymore, until the things you miss are identified and cataloged as things and not a person, until you figure out that easy company and long talks and unblinking, all-knowing eye contact will find you again the way they found you the first time. Miss someone until you don’t.” ― Stephanie Georgopulus

“Little did I realise how much I would miss those ten minutes, those ten minutes in which I lived an entire lifetime.” ― Faraaz Kazi

“When someone you love dies, and you’re not expecting it, you don’t lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time – the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades away from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes – when there’s a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she’s gone, forever – there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.” ― John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany

play is not just play meryl streep