She dances while I sleep
And hiccups while I binge watch Netflix
She’s a part of me
One with me
Her sister is my closest friend and family.
She lights up my life with her smile
and makes me feel at home with her presence
Two baby girls to hug and love
to sing and dance with on the kitchen floor
I’m so proud
I’m so proud
-Saschia
Going human was my best decision
Letting me be something full of both
Flaws and beauty
Striving for better
Still acknowledging my best efforts
Growing growing
From a tree
to ash drifting far and wide
The tub is full and the bubbles bobble on top
My legs have adjusted
but when the rest of me sinks in
it burns.
In the tub, I’m a lost soul
venturing from the heavens to a five star hotel
It is there I’m considered a holy whore with no divine gifts
My words
they float in front of me popping the suds
And here I soak
without a clue and nothing to give
Here I sink
soggy as a sponge in the pits of the ocean
-Saschia Johnson
Cord 
The cord to the blinds snapped right off
I was hoping to let some light in
But maybe this filtered light isn’t so bad
Should I buy a new cord,
A new blind,
Or tie it back together the best I can?
I’m going to peek through
to see if the light
is worth it.
-Saschia Johnson
“I paint ideas, not things. I paint primarily because I have something to say, and since the gift of eloquent language has been denied me, I use painting…
-George Frederick Watts
Feature photo from Wikipedia
Frayed Ends
And what,
dear children,
is the end of the world?
Is it when
a hydrogen bomb is triggered,
and flesh and concrete
and body and soul
are brought to nothingness by the fury
of a stillborn sun?
Is it when
the rich finally get tired
of carrying the poor on their backs
(or, conversely,
when the poor
feel likewise
about the rich)
and drag them bodily
against the nearest convenient wall
(you can see it now, can’t you,
aglow in an aura
of weathered newsreel)
and shove a Luger
straight between their eyes
and blow their brains out,
plink
—
splat,
like wooden ducks at a carnival shooting gallery?
Is it when
the march of progress
tears apart the land
and poisons the water
and fills the air
with smoke and mercury
and electromagnetic waves
that carry only noise
and boundless ignorance,
aided & abetted
by the zombie hordes
who don’t really have a clear idea
about much of anything
(except, you know,
that they were promised
a new season
of that hot new show
and they really hope they get it
because, like,
that shit is pretty awesome)?
Is it when
a good friend
writes you a letter –
oh let’s be real,
the friend writes you an email
or a text
or a tweet
because who the hell has time anymore –
but for the sake of argument,
a good friend
writes
you
a letter,
itemizing in detail
the exact reason why
he or she
will never speak to you again,
delineating the lines
that you
so carelessly
crossed,
and wishing you
a long and happy life
without the burden of their
continued presence?
Is it when
your car breaks down,
or your phone falls in the toilet,
or the dog poops on your new carpet,
or the other guy at the office
got that big account that you wanted,
or the cute piece at the bar
seems a lot more interested
in that hot blond than in
your particular charms,
or your significant whoever is
mad at you again
because you forgot to mow the lawn or
wash the dishes or
suck them off
like you promised to?
Or:
Is it when you see
your newborn child
for the first time,
when you hear him propose,
when you hear her say Yes,
when you earn that last diploma,
when you meet a new friend,
when you forgive an old friend
for the sin of being human,
when you laugh with a good joke,
when others laugh with your jokes,
when you move into your own space
for the first time,
when you get your first real paycheck,
when you learn something
you never imagined before,
when you help someone understand something
that you know,
when you build,
when you love,
when you live?
And what,
dear children,
is the difference
between an end
and a beginning?
Written by: Geoff Blanchette (use link to see his wordpress) a writer and actor based in Westerly, RI
He picked up a red brick
Brushed it off
and placed it on the wet cement.
He had sweat on his brow that
Drip dripped.
His overalls and long sleeve plaid shirt
Were a good choice that frigid morning
But mid-day it was 80 degrees under the sun.
He still stacked because if he didn’t nobody else would.
He spread the cement with a trowel
and placed another brushed brick.
With every stacked brick he gave it a tap.
That set it in place just right.
His back had an ache and his shin had a splint
but every brick tapped was one brick closer
To being complete.
-Saschia Johnson
I can’t keep my eyes open
The lids
they’re being pulled down by a crane
And the weightlessness of sleep washes over me like
waves
Some bigger than others
I want to skip all this creating and let my consciousness free in dreams
But I’m almost finished just a few more sentences
-Saschia Johnson
These critics tell me how this is bad
so bad
They cringe and shrivel and their fingers twitch horizontal
And I say, with the most innocent eyes I can conjure,
I like it this way I like it a mess
And rugged and the honesty that’s so pure it makes you cry
dirty sheets and pants damp with sweat
Don’t tell me my way is bad just because
You live by the way someone else wipes your ass.
-Saschia Johnson
Frayed Ends
And what,
dear children,
is the end of the world?
Is it when
a hydrogen bomb is triggered,
and flesh and concrete
and body and soul
are brought to nothingness by the fury
of a stillborn sun?
Is it when
the rich finally get tired
of carrying the poor on their backs
(or, conversely,
when the poor
feel likewise
about the rich)
and drag them bodily
against the nearest convenient wall
(you can see it now, can’t you,
aglow in an aura
of weathered newsreel)
and shove a Luger
straight between their eyes
and blow their brains out,
plink
—
splat,
like wooden ducks at a carnival shooting gallery?
Is it when
the march of progress
tears apart the land
and poisons the water
and fills the air
with smoke and mercury
and electromagnetic waves
that carry only noise
and boundless ignorance,
aided & abetted
by the zombie hordes
who don’t really have a clear idea
about much of anything
(except, you know,
that they were promised
a new season
of that hot new show
and they really hope they get it
because, like,
that shit is pretty awesome)?
Is it when
a good friend
writes you a letter –
oh let’s be real,
the friend writes you an email
or a text
or a tweet
because who the hell has time anymore –
but for the sake of argument,
a good friend
writes
you
a letter,
itemizing in detail
the exact reason why
he or she
will never speak to you again,
delineating the lines
that you
so carelessly
crossed,
and wishing you
a long and happy life
without the burden of their
continued presence?
Is it when
your car breaks down,
or your phone falls in the toilet,
or the dog poops on your new carpet,
or the other guy at the office
got that big account that you wanted,
or the cute piece at the bar
seems a lot more interested
in that hot blond than in
your particular charms,
or your significant whoever is
mad at you again
because you forgot to mow the lawn or
wash the dishes or
suck them off
like you promised to?
Or:
Is it when you see
your newborn child
for the first time,
when you hear him propose,
when you hear her say Yes,
when you earn that last diploma,
when you meet a new friend,
when you forgive an old friend
for the sin of being human,
when you laugh with a good joke,
when others laugh with your jokes,
when you move into your own space
for the first time,
when you get your first real paycheck,
when you learn something
you never imagined before,
when you help someone understand something
that you know,
when you build,
when you love,
when you live?
And what,
dear children,
is the difference
between an end
and a beginning?
Written by: Geoff Blanchette (use link to see his wordpress) a writer and actor based in Westerly, RI
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Wanna read more? Here’s another great piece in our Morality Collection, I Want It All by Geoff Blanchette
