Month: April 2022


Looking at you I wonder

Are we merely new souls

Trying to understand the

Code of life?

I believe I am the

Intaglio to your cameo

Carefully carved from

Earthen stone or

Ocean abalone

Encased in the mating of

Sun and Moon platinum

The eyes are my body totem

As yours is the heart

I so want to

Metaphorically spill blood

To appease those jealous gods

Tell me what to do…

❤ II ❤ II ❤ II

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Body Totems



❤ ❤ ❤

Despite date rapists

Feeding her chemicals

For quiet pliancy

Despite thieves

Stealing her jewels

Of gold, silver, uranium

Hidden in her

Deep, dark pockets

Despite ripping at her

Strongly skillful hands

Lovingly tending the roots

Of trees

That shelter, oxygenate, and feed

Of weeds

Intrinsic providers for healing

Of fruits and vegetables

To nourish her hungry children

Through it all

Her molten core

Fecund to the end

Like a Baby Boomer

Listening to the music

In her soul

Dancing, singing

Shouting out

“I am the mother

Of you all

And will never die!”

Because the future holds

Glorious consensual couplings

With water, air, fire

And while they helplessly fail

To protect her now

She maintains her sanity

Knowing what is right

And she will never give up…

❤ ❤ ❤

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Mother Earth in my swamp


*Scroll down for a video by The Who and by Donovan

❤ ❤ ❤

Our Baby Boomer generation

Is outraged!

(Or should be)

Just yesterday

The boys harmonized 

“Duke of Earl”

On the city corners

While we girls dreamed of

The Beach Boys,

Scratching at our training bras

And tossing our pre-teen hair


How can it be we

Cannot walk fast and feel free?

I do the treadmill daily

But ugh, legs still ache

Drinking water makes me cough

Trickling down the wrong pipe

And eyes don’t quite see

What I think should be

Another birthday is all good

But oh, where is the real me?

(The cute, young one)

So, from the generation that

Ramped up the word freedom

And began love and peace manifesting

Let’s call a moratorium on aging

And see what magical changes appear

By protesting

As we mellow-yellow**

“Quite rightly…”

❤ ❤ ❤

©2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Old CS (photo taken 4-14-22)

**YouTube Video Donovan Mellow Yellow

*YouTube Video The Who Talking About My Generation


It is said a nation is judged

By the statues erected

As is a home

And the Stoics ask

“Are you living by the example

They stand for?”

Although not quite my birthday

I opened presents from three friends

And great minds certainly do think alike

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The first statue I received

A Merlion

Official mascot of Singapore

But I like words more

And make up my own

And so


Is a lionesque version of


And this statue will always be

A source of marvel and magic

To me

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A flamingo for my garden

How it makes me laugh

So needed in my life

Right now

It is my guide because

It’s not just a pretty face

A solar “panel” absorbs

Daytime sun

Gifting the night

A powerful light

At the press of a button

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Wow! This dog statue

Resembles Bandit

My Toy Fox Terrier

I sit it on my treadmill

And the next few mornings

I jump, thinking it’s real

Couldn’t resist asking

Before morning work-out

Whose spirit gazes at me

From lively glass eyes

Kali, yes, my darling

Kali the Rat Terrier

Dead these 7 years

From a killer possum

She was only four

And I’ve not ever recovered

From her death

And so, although,

I don’t intend to talk to the statue

I will send a blessing

To my little girl

Who is no longer lost

My RockStar loved her

And loves the statue

But here are the doppelgangers

Bandit and statue

And I ask you

Which one is real

Which one is Memorex…?

❤ ❤ ❤

Thanks to Madi, Myra & Arlene

❤ ❤ ❤

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGES: Doppelgangers and Birthday Statues


Would love to take

A fantastic voyage

Through your mind

Like that old movie

Shrink down

Sailing around

The gray matter

Would I see

Alphabet letters

Forming words of poetry

Or musical notes

In memorable harmony?

Then I’d follow the chart

Steering toward your heart

To finally learn if

You are my counterpart…

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© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Hearts


This year to celebrate

International Roma Day

I borrow a pattern

From our Asian Indian ancestors

And my wish is for us

To follow the Chakras

Power points represented by

The Color spectrum

The Rainbow

We first look to RED

Are we SECURE?

Do we earn our bread

And educate ourselves?

Next is ORANGE

Don’t waste EMOTIONS

By bickering over trivia

Save the passion for song and dance

Save it for love of family and romance!

In unity we find POWER

YELLOW is the sunny color

That allows us to greet each day

Whether indulging in work or play

Use that power to shape our lives

In an honest and caring way

Let’s open our hearts with GREEN

HEAL ourselves and others

Physically, mentally, intelligently

Then befriend many with



Write, paint, compose

A way of greeting the

Global community

Not necessarily artistically

However way you can better

Your life and others

Now think INDIGO

And use that SIXTH SENSE

We’re supposedly so famous for

To see the truth of us

And everyone else’s integrity

The third eye that can bring us

All together

And then we are ready for VIOLET


As we want to make Earth the

Greatest place to be


Our DNA is not part of a

Man-made philosophy

Not religion

Not sexual orientation

Nor the diasporan languages

We all grew up with

Our DNA is in the RAT

The blood

No matter how tiny the percentage

We are Roma,

Sinte, Gypsies

(Say it with pride!)

We are one…

❤ ❤ ❤

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Chakras along the swamp


After 15 years

Finally accepted

The need for new tires

Found a mobile installer

But he wouldn’t drive down

The dirt road

Wouldn’t work on

Anything but asphalt or cement


He agreed

To meeting roomie and me

In the Winn Dixie parking lot

Tuesday morning

At the end of the lot

Sat on a curb

Under some Live Oak trees

With a low humidity

And wild sea breeze

While he worked

Wind blew my hair so much

Had to braid it in order to see

And the dumpster-diving


Cawed and flew

Way above

Until I closed my eyes

And surely heard the surf

Only 3 miles coming from the Gulf

And decompressed

As I got dosed

With negative ions

Oh, who thought

I’d enjoy

My Tuesday tires

So much?

And drove home

Feeling like a queen

Almost as tall as the gulls

First chakra thanking me

For adding this security

To my 15-year-old car

And once home

Me, the sleepless

Slept for 2 hours

Waking up to gentle showers

Of baptismal rain…

❤ ❤ ❤

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Tuesday Tires


IT’S AUTISM SPECTRUM DISORDER (ASD) AWARENESS MONTH!  As you know, we are all different on the Spectrum but many of us have a feeling of alienation because of the diverse way we think (neurodiversity) causing us a struggle to fit in socially.  I have written many poems about my particular problems including sound sensitivity (although I can blast my radio in the car when a great rock song is playing); not seeing things (my first husband was enraged that it took me a month to notice he shaved his moustache) and my roomie was upset that I didn’t see the huge pile of fencing poles blocking the front door despite my walking over it (“Huh? asked I, “What wood?”).  This poem is short, about my noise sensitivity and my love for Quantum Physics although I don’t really understand it in a Scientific way.  Anyway, we’re out there, Homo Autisticus, as I’ve called it in the past.  It’s all okay, right? xo


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Road trip through the Route 66 of space
Wending my way among
Suns, Moons and Stars
A need to escape
My once-quiet swamp
Now juxtaposed with a mini-highway of
Muffler-less Harleys
Road rage screech of auto horns
Want to move
Maybe to the Multiverse
Sensory deprivation needed
At least two hours a day
Move somewhere
E=MC squared
Multiplied by good fortune
Poet Laureate of the Galaxy
Might as well throw in
Grammy winner
But I’ll take anything new
To escape the
Schrodinger’s Cat feeling
Of not knowing whether
I’m alive or dead
An atom
A photon
Existing in multiple states
So with pack on my back
Seeking the secret of being
A social maven
Needing a place
In way-out space
Perhaps on a planet where
Autism rules…

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© 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Quantum Amulet

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So here’s one I posted in January that expresses the ASD that I know and love…


(another autism poem)


Autism represented by a jigsaw puzzle

Because we’re difficult to figure out

But I say we’re kaleidoscopes

While Neurotypicals are like a telescope

Seeing the acceptable reality

Many of us Neurodiverse

See patterns of light and darkness

Mirrored in endless combinations

The Autism Spectrum

Like the Color Spectrum

Diverse, yet part of the Universe


So me, I’m in the middle

Not like the Rain Man

Caught in a world of apartness

Not like Temple Grandin or Elon Musk

Geniuses in their chosen fields

Just regular me

Able to see who I am

Yet must confess

Like the Rain Man

And maybe Musk and Grandin

I share the loneliness


Familiar with Sabian Symbols?

Autism, for some of us, is like

Aries 7:

“One who is successfully

Expressing herself

In two realms

At once”

Of course,

Like the kaleidoscope,

A flick of the wrist

Changes the broken pieces of

Colorful glass

And a new reality is born

A Sacred Geometry

Of angles, circles, lines

Reflected in the mirror

Showing the signs

Of what can be

Or sadly

What cannot



Derived from the

Greek words


“Beautiful form to view”

And so true…

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE:  Kaleidoscope inside and out


Three in the morning

Siren screaming from my phone


Tornado Warning

Wind whining

Found myself spinning

In a mortar, steering with a pestle

Me now a younger Baba Jaga

Landing in a meadow

Full of wild blooms

Of every color

And there

Amidst the herbs and spice

You, singing something nice

About love and loneliness

I join you in song

Nothing can be wrong

When we are together

And the wind

Quits its violence

And from above there is

The silence of love…

❤ ❤ ❤

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Baba Jaga flying her mortar