Month: March 2015



A Gypsy without a caravan is often like

A violinist without a bow

Mine has now become a

Mossy, storage shed on wheels

Yet the tires are pumped and road-ready

It makes me feel safe

How I envy turtles

Imitate them with my backpacks

But humans need facilities

We need reasonable comfort

Safety, most of all

I no longer like to drive

So my caravan sits

Plunk, plunk the strings

It needs a bow

To create the music of movement

Escape to another realm

Not happening now

But it will, I vow…


© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija


Reblog in honor of Jack Kerouac’s Birthday (March 12)


“The world you see is just a movie in your mind.

Rocks dont see it.

Bless and sit down.

Forgive and forget.

Practice kindness all day to everybody

and you will realize you’re already

in heaven now.

That’s the story.

That’s the message.

Nobody understands it,

nobody listens, they’re

all running around like chickens with heads cut off

I will try to teach it but it will

be in vain, s’why I’ll

end up in a shack

praying and being

cool and singing

by my woodstove

making pancakes.”

Jack Kerouac, author of On The Road

Letter to Edie Kerouac Parker, 1957

(Brain Pickings Weekly)

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While looking at the photograph of

The Governor with mad-like eyes

I hear him saying, Jim Jonesingly,

(As if the year is once again 1978)

“Go ahead, drink the Kool-Aid. Trust me”

Perhaps it is my over-active imagination

But I confess, I do obsess, over others’ eyes


His state’s Department of Environmental Protection

Is not permitted to use the words

“Climate Change” or “Global Warming”

Strange, I thought 1984

Occurred 31 years ago?


His state is my state

I did not vote for him

His ideas do not align with mine

Can this be considered

Taxation without representation?


One would think that the

Peninsular state’s vulnerability

To storm surges and rising sea levels

Would encourage leaders to

Embrace the opportunity

To study land protection

Instead of waging war

Over semantics

Knowledge is what we seek

Why has the debate shifted to buzz words?


“Always look to the eyes,”

My Romani Gran insisted

Hectic, hypnotic insistence

Can be silently sensed

And that is the time

To turn away

For nothing can change

What those eyes see

What lies those eyes

Send to the brain

No, nothing will change…


(c) 2015 ViataMaja



“I have always depended

On the kindness of strangers”

Says I, Blanche DuBois-ing*

Through a life where I

Just can’t settle down so I

Just sell my soul

For a sheltering roof

Either to the men I’ve married

(Legally, handfastedly)

Who remain strangers despite

Decades together

Or to dwindling friends

No home of my own

No vitsa—tribe—like

My Romani ancestors

Just moving through life

Seemingly independent yet

Incapable of ownership

Searching for elusive roots

My beloved trees

Are free to possess…


(c) 2015 ViataMaja


*Quote from Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire


(another disgruntled commentary re “soul mate” search)



Mind frog-leaping around

The blistering galaxy

Fire comes


Immediately burns away all

Nothing left

What’s the sense in that?

No one there

To say, “Yes”


At times, each day

Was like a billion years of life

Evolutionary cycle teaching me

To trust no one

Earth smothers

Choking all existence away

Burying truth

And mistakes

No voice left

To say, Yes”


Spontaneous rain

Insidious Water of gray

Like a breaking

Foamy wave

Over and over

Eroding the sand

Wearing all away

Until one says, “Yes”



Sky lightly peppered with crows

Air gently blows

Flows like water

Warms like fire

Blankets like earth

Perhaps, perhaps…?

“Yes!” says Air for me


(c) 2015 ViataMaja