Private Moments #67 – “Screaming Out What’s Real”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate Moments #67
Poem “Screaming Out What’s Real”
by Jennifer Kiley
Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #67
“Twisting Inside Shouting Out Loud”
Painting “On Seuss”
by Jk McCormack
Post Monday 23rd June 2014

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)

on suess by jkmccormack (c) jkm 2013

On Seuss by jkmccormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“Screaming Out What’s Real”
By Madison Taylor
16th December 2008

Releasing the danger
Of the Real
Out Loud
Everyone will listen
It all is quite distracting
But they will not hear
What is meant by Real

No one knows what is Real
It isn’t what we Feel
That makes a “Thing” Real
It isn’t what we See
That’s going to set us Free

We are owned
By the World
In which we live in
Eyes watching every move
Following our dreams
We willingly send them
Out into cyberspace
Without regret

After all
What possibly can happen
If “They” know
What “They” think
“They” know
None of it is Real
It’s a metamorphosis of Time
Playing It’s game of Illusions

We are Chess Pieces
Closing in on Check Mate
When the Game is Over
It ALL Starts Again

What Is Your Next Move?
If You Would Like To Begin Again

Endings into Beginnings
Endlessly…infinity symbol small

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Ilse de Lange - I Still Cry

question everything gif lightning gif julie-andrew AofM emily laughing on grow rolling meditating on rock overlooking flowing river gif feet walking through moving waves gifa story is told through motion in reality <3 jkm

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red heart outline with pale blue bg

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Private Writings: Chapter #28 — Death on the Veranda

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #28 – –Death on the Veranda
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1
On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 1st October 2013
Dedicated to Julie Andrews. Always Wished She Were My Mother.
Happy Birthday! 1st October 1935 Day J.A. Blessed This World. Saved My Life.



Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: — Chapter #28: Death on the Veranda

Tuesday 1st April 2008

Dear Annie,

That was some announcement you made in group. I was stunned and couldn’t react in our session or in group today. I thought it being April Fool’s Day you were joking. First you tell us group had one more meeting, the last being next Tuesday followed by our session. Then to top that off, came the shock of the decade. The police declared Angie’s death a homicide. They arrested Dr. George. He has been charge with her murder. They feel the evidence is pretty airtight. The only thing you didn’t say was the cause of death.

A murder, I thought so all along, but Dr. George. Why would he throw away everything for her? It doesn’t sound right to me. She was not a very nice person. He must have been threatened to make him kill her. Not trying to blame the victim, but why are the police being so quiet about it all. Not a clue to go on. Curious mind wants to know. It’s driving slowly by a crash scene. You don’t want to see the gore but you do want to know what happened. Everyone does, unless they have a total lack of curiosity.

I hope he didn’t do it and a good lawyer gets him off. My feelings aside, he doesn’t deserve prison for putting up with her for ten years. We both started seeing him about the same time. He seemed alright back then, but deteriorated slowly since then. Retiring would have been one way to go, but murder. To be taken out by killing someone. That’s going a bit too far, indubitably.

I don’t mean to take this so lightly, but it is April Fool’s, remember. It all seems like a dream someone sat on and all the cream filling went smush! Should I really be serious? Angie died. I don’t miss her. Don’t even say I should, just little. Never. Not ever. She stuck me every week with her sarcasm and fucked up sense of propriety. Homophobia, she took to an extreme. She was twisted. Perverse. Jealous, I have someone who loves me. Couldn’t stand anyone being happy, if she wasn’t. I know she was definitely pissed off at the whole fucking world, like it owed her something.

Well, I do not miss her. Maybe sorry she was murdered. That part is terrible. It hurts her kids. I remember what I said when we all first heard about it, I said her kids would have a better life. But I am sure they are hurting now. It creeps me out thinking about it.

You mentioned in group, at the close, there is another group forming soon. It would be a selected group. More specific but you didn’t say how specific. I should have asked you in session but it slipped my mind. Feeling depressed for the past several days needed more attention.

Everything felt so lost. The more I felt myself slipping away from the real world, the deeper the pain was cutting into my flesh. Wanting to make myself hurt with physical pain was my only distraction from wanting to kill myself. Wanting to die was so powerful. A voice was speaking to me, “how do you think your friends and Scottie and your animals feel if you died by killing yourself.” It is my animals and Scottie who keep me around. And the friend who spoke those words, she, also, keeps me alive. I couldn’t hurt any of them, not in taking my own life. I have no control over feeling depressed. It is build into the misfiring of my brain.

Being bipolar gives me such highs. I write the sharpest dialogue and scenes are filled with life. When I’m depressed, I find a way of using those moments to be creative, also. But the pain courses through my blood, wanting to burst through like a gusher. The pressure in my head, to scream out the need to beat myself, to make myself bleed. Depression is so difficult to talk about, everyone backs away from it. They don’t get it. The worse things a person can do to a person who is feeling this way is to tell them to “Snap Out of It,” or “Get Over It, ” and the best, “What Do You Have to be Depressed About? You’ve got a great life.”

Depression has nothing to do with what you have or how much money in your bank account. You could be the wealthiest person in the world. Depression doesn’t acknowledge the means of one’s life. Graduating college Head of the Dean’s List, head of your class, editor of the college paper, that isn’t recognized when you want to kill yourself. Being nominated for an Oscar, absolutely nothing in it stops depression. When Depression wants to grab ahold of you, pull you down or push you closer and closer to the edge, nothing will stop it but trying to refocus its’ intentions. It feels an entity onto itself, with more power then I have inside of me to fight it.

I have won all the battles so far, but they are not through with me. Probably never will be. It is my battle to have two prominent sides to my bipolar. I am just so excited when I am excited because I am not depressed. There is a catch. Being high on life when bipolar can spin you too far to the upper end. You can get too high. Once again, the possibilities of losing control.

I want to switch over to a quick look into “Brief Sacrifice.” I have one piece for you this week from the script. There is a secret organization trying to locate the Friends of Nikola Tesla. They want to destroy them. They know something is changing. They know Carter McLeod is in possession of the Silver Box, and that it holds magical powers. They want to retrieve this and the person who holds it. Their anagram is GEUSS. Pronounced as the word “Guess.” I will tell you in my next letter about the initials and what the anagram means.

We should really talk about what I wrote and the poem I know I am going to write after I finish this letter.

It makes me feel so happy your being in my life.



Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>


Calla Lily Bunch

rain in garden gif

Screaming Death
Written by Madison Taylor
1st April 2008

Screaming death
Life ending

Living has too many endings
Once there
Into invisible air

Pain fills the heart
Exploding like fireworks
Shooting stars
Covering the sky

Blood spurting
From dying flesh
Taken out
By the enemy

All is stolen
Not yet lived

Just gone
All is gone
Ripped apart
Stolen away from love

© madison taylor 2008

Reflecting Abstract Artist --- Jaison Cianelli

Reflecting — Abstract Art — Artist — Jaison Cianelli

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher framed

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep

Poetry Out Loud: Change

poetry out loud - day title saturdayChange
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 13th September 2013
Posted Saturday 14th 2013

la fleur bleu d'artiste by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

la fleur bleu d’artiste by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Thursday 12th September 2013

Change makes life magic
Wandering wild through the mind
Freeing crust covering dreams

Expectations gone
Stretch universe past limits
Liberation wide open

Art is creative
Rescued ideas in thoughts
No depth created not art

© jennifer kiley 2013

flowing time by yaroslava

Flowing Time by Yaroslava

Cant U Feel the Change — David Guetta

Flowers Song and Poetry

Flowers Song and a Poem
Post Created by Jennifer Kiley
Poem Written by Henry David Thoreau
Created Thursday 29th August 2013
Posted Saturday 31th August 2013
Poetry Out Loud

Dedicated to a Special Friend Who Has Met the Trials of Life Head On

flowers yellow white pinkish with green background of leaves for niamh


I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I’m dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out ’twill leak
Without the help of Greek,
Or any tongue.

A man may love the truth and practise it,
Beauty he may admire,
And goodness not omit,
As much as may befit
To reverence.

But only when these three together meet,
As they always incline,
And make one soul the seat,
And favorite retreat,
Of loveliness;

When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
And a kindred nature,
Proclaim us to be mates,
Exposed to equal fates

And each may other help, and service do,
Drawing Love’s bands more tight,
Service he ne’er shall rue
While one and one make two,
And two are one;

In such case only doth man fully prove
Fully as man can do,
What power there is in Love
His inmost soul to move


Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
Withstand the winter’s storm,
And spite of wind and tide,
Grow up the meadow’s pride,
For both are strong

Above they barely touch, but undermined
Down to their deepest source,
Admiring you shall find
Their roots are intertwined

Henry David Thoreau

lady butterfly painted green back ground

Easy To Be — Prospecta featuring Lila Goldie If you want to rescue a dog check this site out.

Tales of Mystery and Imagination

Tales of Mystery and Imagination
Written by Edgar Allan Poe
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 16th August 2013
Posted On Saturday 17th August 2013

FluidPainting65 --- Artist Mark Chadwick  792x895

FluidPainting65 — Artist Mark Chadwick

“Dreams are reality at its most profound.”
— Eugene Ionesco

Tales of Mystery and Imagination
by Edgar Allan Poe

For my own part, I have never had a thought
Which I could not set down in words
With even more distinctness that which I conceived it.
There is however a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy
Which are not thoughts and to which as yet
I have found it absolutely impossible to adapt to language.
These fancies arise in the soul,
Alas how rarely, only at epochs
Of most intense tranquility
When the bodily and mental health are in perfection.
And those mere points of time
When the confines of the waking world
Blend with the world of dreams.
And so I captured this fancy
Where all that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

A Flutist Call To Dream --- Artist Josephine Wall   772x582

A Flutist Call To Dreamer — Artist Josephine Wall

A Dream Within A Dream — Alan Parsons Project
Tales of Mystery and Imagination — Recitation by Orson Welles

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

Private Writings: Chapter #20 — No Sympathy For the Devil

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #20 — No Sympathy For the Devil
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created 2nd August 2013
Introduction & Chapter #1 Published 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 6th August 2013


Private Writings: Chapter #20 — No Sympathy For the Devil

“You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! melting! Oh, what a world! What a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness? Oooooh, look out! I’m going! Oooooh! Ooooooh!” — Wicked Witch of the West

I’m Melting! – The Wizard of Oz — Movie CLIP (1939) HD

Tuesday 5th February 2008


I can’t believe what you announced at group today. It’s a shock beyond anything expected. What the hell happened? How could one of the members of group just die. No one has any answers. Dr. George was way too silent. His strange today was more than weird. It was eery. Remember what I told you about my last session with him. A week ago, he accused me of spreading a rumour. He told me it wasn’t true and accused me of making it up to get him in trouble. First, I never spread any rumour. Secondly, I had no idea what he was talking about. He kept saying it wasn’t true. What wasn’t true?

What I can remember is, he said, I told people, what people, he was having an affair with one of his clients. I’m not even going to theorize on this one. Now a client is dead. Someone I wasn’t really friends with either. In fact, she was a major character in the destruction of my relationship with Dr. George. He was always feeling a strong need to defend her against anything I had to say about her. I will be honest with you. She was a racist, homophobic, classist, poor excuse for a human being. I didn’t like her and she could have stabbed me to death and stepped over my body without any problem.

Now she is dead. What am I suppose to feel? Sorry, I didn’t kiss her ass. Sorry, she tore me apart any chance she had an opening in group. Let me be plain with you. She was jealous of me. I think she hated it, my being a lesbian. She hated I had a partner who loved me and cared about me. And I loved Scottie just as much. She had a husband who cheated on her or just was too damn lazy to show her any romance. He took her for granted. You heard her complaints about him. Maybe he just got tired of living with her and took the easiest and fastest way out. Murder.

I know I am sounding crass but no love or tears shall I shed for her. That may make me sound heartless but it is how I feel. It, also, doesn’t make me feel so fuzzy and warm knowing each one of us are going to have to talk to the police detectives. Not something I want to do in person. A good British detective mystery is my cup of tea but a brash and possible homicide in the old USA is not thrilling at all.

It doesn’t appear anyone knows what happened. I do feel sorry for her children. Don’t know them but they must be hurting. Trying to draw on some empathy and sympathy for her friends in the group. And Dr. George, I am beginning to get a bad feeling about him. He is going down. Meltdown, that is. Mentally, I think he has been losing it slowly for months now. This is just going to make him completely lose it. His pet is dead. What will he do now? I didn’t see him today in session. His receptionist called and cancelled our session but still kept my appointment set for next week.

Changing subject now. Angie’s death is creeping me out. Death is scary enough but having sat in the same room for many years doing therapy and a group member, like or not like, dies suddenly, no cause of death released as of yet, is just too much to take in. I need to fantasize.

How about just a touch on Brief Sacrifice? Where we left off in the screenplay, which is included in the film, Jame’s a Savannah cat belonging to Carter McLeod, author extraordinaire, has stumbled on the beginning of the solution to a riddle with a mystery attached. No one knew how to solve the code yet. Jasper, Jax and James, all three of Carter’s Savannah cats were honing in on breaking part of the solution. The first three letters of the code were S.I.T. It meant something. The initial stood for something which Carter felt would help unravel the rest of the codes letters and numbers.

“Time to get back to this.” Carter told her boys. “James, do you feel any vibes coming from the jumbled numbers or the other letters?”

James placed his right paw on what appeared to be a number this time. Carter took firm hold of his paw and lifted it. Underneath was the number 62. “What does number 62 mean? What does S.I.T. and 62 have in common?”

“James are you getting anything else? Maybe a word or name. Anything at all that makes sense.”

James reached out his right paw and places it over two different letters, the letter ‘R’ and the letter ‘M.’ When he seemed finished he crawled into his mum’s lap waiting for his reward. Carter ran her right hand from the top of James head and slowly slid her hand down the length of his body and at the end encircled his tail, finishing her petting by sliding her closed hand all the way up to the tip of his tail and then released. James purr was a contented and satisfying sound. He actually appeared to be smiling.

“Now, let us see what we have. The number 62. The letters S.I.T. and the letters R.M. What they mean, I have no idea. Maybe we should try to google them together online and see if the internet comes up with something.”

Carter opened up her laptop. Once loaded up, she opened her browser. Clicked Google on her Toolbar. The page was open to search. Carter typed in all the clues so far and waited while Google responded.

“Well, that can’t be right. Route 62 or Rotten Tomatoes review of I Heart Huckabees. That cannot possibly be right. Maybe if I enter each one separately. That’s how you gave them to us, James. Let’s give it another try.”

Once again Carter entered the first clue, but this time asked it a question about the letters. Are they initials for the title of a book or of a famous person? The S.I.T stands for the title of the book Somewhere In Time and the initials R.M. are the author’s name, Richard Matheson. A short synopsis, she reads aloud to her boys.

Somewhere in Time is the unforgettable story of a love that transcends the boundaries of time. Richard Collier, a man of the modern era, becomes obsessed with a woman of another time, a celebrated actress at the turn of the century. His fascination with Elise McKenna proves strong enough to physically transport him back to 1896, where he meets and woos the woman of his dreams. But for how long can their passion resist the relentless tide of history? Somewhere in Time inspired a 1980 film starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour that has become a genuine cult classic.”

“I know that movie. I love that movie. It is so romantic. I’ve seen it so many times. Why didn’t the letters click in my brain right away. James, I think you are onto something here. First thing, we need to do is get a copy of Somewhere In Time. I would wager the number 62 is a page number. Let me read a bit more.”

Carter looks down the page and finds some customer reviews of the book. She looks to see if maybe she might find something helpful. “Wow! What is this about. Here is a passage from the book I don’t remember them mentioning in the film.”

“Listen, guys, let me read this to you, ‘My name is Richard Collier. I’m thirty-six years old, a television writer by profession. I’m six foot two and weigh one hundred and eighty-seven pounds.’ I’ll move ahead to the ending line that makes me feel this is rather an important point. ‘I moved to Los Angeles in 1960. My brother moved to L.A. in 1965 and I moved into the guest house behind his house the same year. I left there this morning because I’m going to die in four to six months and thought I’d write a book about it while I traveled.’ The book is about time travel. The character telling the story is going to die. Need to think, but I don’t want to jump ahead until I find out what is written on page 62. If that is what 62 means.”

James starts to purr louder and rubbing his face on his mum’s hands. “Are you telling me James, I’m thinking in the right direction?” Purring and rubbing is getting more intense from James. Carter continues to read as she continues to pet James. Jasper and Jax decide they want in on some of the affection. They both join James in their mum’s lap, as much as they are able to fit into it and along side of it. As close as they all can get, they are singing their purrs in unison. They feel there mum’s happiness through their mum’ body.

“Here is something else, I’ll try to break it down for you three adorable cuties. According to this review by a reader of the book, which repeats some of what I read before. ‘Richard Collier is a 36-year old writer with a terminal brain tumor who falls in love with the beautiful actress, Elise McKenna. But there’s one big problem. She’s dead. She lived many years ago in another time. But that doesn’t stop Richard who figures out a way to travel back in time and win her heart.’ Travel back in time seems the relevant statement. Somewhere in Time is about time travel and romance. He discovers a photograph in a visitors room in the hotel of the actress Elise McKenna and becomes obsessed with her.”

Carter hugs each of her boys with a great big snuggle. She is smiling as her mind is traveling in all directions at once. The mystery, what if it has something to do with time travel. Is that too far fetched? “Guys, I think that is enough for today. How about some dinner? I will try to find us a copy of the book Somewhere In Time. Until we get that we can still work on the rest of the letters and numbers in the code. But I think we are way ahead on figuring this out. At least, I think and hope we are. It’s possible we are being misled. We will see. I’m not sure what it means, any of this, but sure is damned exciting. Time travel. WOW!”

Well, what a day for writing. A death, which is shocking, even if no love is lost, a life is over. In itself that is enough. But I must say my way of escaping the tragic is to write and create. Having Carter McLeod figure out a possible direction the film ‘Brief Sacrifice’ might be heading, that is satisfying and important to me. Of course, I knew it before telling you but it is fun giving you sneak peaks is fun. It, also, takes my mind off of what really happened to that person in our therapy group. It is really creepy. Not something I want to think about while Scottie is away.

I did talk to her, Scottie, that is. She is going to be home in three days. Finishing up re-filming a scene that didn’t come out right in any of the takes. So, Scottie has been spending time with an actor, female, brings out my jealousy. Scottie’s not about to get involved, but if you knew this woman, you would understand my concern. She’s shattered many relationships that appeared solid on the outside. This bitch doesn’t care whose life she wrecks. Mine, I don’t want her near.

Enough for now. I hope we will be able to schedule our first private session together really soon. It feels like I am going to need you. He missed our session this week. Next week, I intend to have it out with Dr. George. I am going to confront him. Hold nothing back. I promise you. He will receive my wrath for all his indiscretions and fucking with my head. Trying to make me feel insane, delusional, unable to see or understand what I am feeling. He is going down. I will need you to put me back together again after I fall off the wall down into my darkest hole. My prediction is I am heading down. Mania high is coming to a close with depression rising. A funny irony considering all the circumstances surrounding me.

We need to talk. Soon. Until next time.

Fondly & Needing You,

Sets & Animals for Film: Brief Sacrifice with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. [Portrayed by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS] Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS

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.

Soon Annie will get to read Madison’s Letters. Some at a time. All will be revealed in time.

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif

Morning Disappears
Written by Madison Taylor
February 10th 2008

Venture in the story
Continuing on without breakage
Could the story continue on
No broken chain
No link to spare
To continue from here
Until despair wears down into nothing
Expanding energy
Nothing is there
Left to grasp

Blend together
Join the lines
Belong together
Flowing wave’s crashing
Shore pulling back again
Once more in repetition
An answer to the moon’s direction
The sea governed by the moon cycles
Stars are all one
All is one with them

Now answer
Consciousness’ stream
Finding the door freeing the words
Letting go
Follow a path long ago set
Not made but entered
Trusting it is a way
To be for now
To hunt the seas of old
Begin today
Starting again
Try not to break the bond
It connects
The next strand

With no holes to stop the flow
No one falling between the cracks
The earth opens up her crust
Sucks us all inside
Boils the remains
There will be hell

Now longing for the sea
Under the waves
Covering over us
Not swimming to survive another breath
Stars photograph their memories
Imagery from shining creatures
From the darkest of deeps
No eyes have seen

Humans contain in their visions
Salty kisses on eyelashes
Wiping away the blurriness of tears
Convey feelings following close
Songs lamenting
Repeating the vanishing
Disappearing tricks of death

Beating heads
Bashing the brains inside
With senses to understand
There is no understanding
Just an illusion guided
By a magician with mirrors
Reflecting nothing seen or lost
Not revealed

Without meaning
Truly nothing exists
Beyond a pin prick in the flesh
Pulled from off our bones
When they melt into the soil
Water washes away the nutrients
Back to the sea
Where it is spoiled
By greed of oil breakers
They heat our flesh
To burn in hell
Just to stay warm
One long moment

Perishing into dust
Winds carry away
To farthest reaches
The unknown universe
Time repeats
Continues on with ideas
Crying salty tears
Proving feelings
Are happening

Experience life
Time to borrow
Quickly it’s taken away
Shortness vanishes
Leaving behind
Urges to scream

Lands far away
Recognize they are not alone
Echo returns
Neither are we
We must hurry
Nothing lasts long enough
Recording its real existence
It is stolen away again
Again and again

The teacher stops
Repeating souls in mannequin form
Until the end of repeats
It is overdone
We are no more
Does anyone want the choice
Completely coming to a close
Never to be again
Thoughts of feeling
No more pain
The choice is life
To feel
Or death
To be numb
Forever more
Life would be
The choice

© madison taylor 2008

awe-some green 1Awesome Waves — Jk McCormack (c) jKm 2013

The Rolling Stones – Sympathy For The Devil (Live) – OFFICIAL

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

english garden off the back marble patio  972x732

English garden off the back marble patio

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick at 3 mos is a curious fellow, always checking the unusual out 1093x479

Patrick at 3 mos is a curious fellow, always checking the unusual out

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. It is protected area. Patrick cannot leave property from there. He loves Scottie. They are buddies.

Awesome lighted treehouse on the estate of chateau de rocher  642x432

Awesome lighted tree-house on the estate of Chateau de Rocher. A place of escape for Madison. She liked to run away when she was a kid. Climbing trees were her favorite places to hide. Scottie had this built for Madison as their 10th Anniversary present.

play is not just play meryl streep