A bunch of nothing from a lady who still calls herself a girl. Welcome to the growth of a new life of a Woman who had to travel to the opposite side of the country, live in a bush stripped of any and everything I've ever believed I've known, to find Truth, Peace, and a Power that I'm here to share.
Showing posts with label collaborate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label collaborate. Show all posts
Sunday, January 13, 2019
Monday, October 8, 2018
I was in Rehab, Now I'm back
I want to let you all know that I'm no longer homeless. I want to tell you the story of beauty that life has once again shown me. I want to update you on my health, my medical conditions, and the medicinal remedies that are shifting my moods, attitudes, and the creativity that propels me into these blog posts and podcasts.
I want to write.
I want to tell you all about everything.
I'm afraid I'm suffering from writer's block. The last time I had writer's block it lasted over a decade.
Chopin has been my movement. Solitude has been my peace. You have been my motivation. What does one do?
I believe I should be traveling the country, the world, reviewing local shops, meeting new souls, having adventures and sharing them with you. Sober, yes, sober.
I have a brother who will make this journey complete. I have been encountering many people who are awake or in the process of waking up from a sleepwalk full of lies, full of pain, full of confusion. Let's pray that Warner Bailey becomes the movement to move hundreds of thousands into an infinity of change. Let's see the real world. Let's be rid of the lies we've been fed.
There's nothing to fear. We are all capable of living our best lives. I will share how through blogging, podcasting, filmmaking, music production, and street art (I'll find a better name for this. Lol.)
I'd ask you to join but you already have.
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Way Too Much with Warner Bailey: New Episode!
Promo:
JOIN ME FOR AN INTERVIEW WHICH WILL BE PART 1 OF MANY.
A look at where a conversation between friends can go after and during seemingly complicated moments of confusion, sadness, violence, anger, and growth.
Two artists, friends, sit together and chat after a horrific life-changing scene. After being attacked by my ex-boyfriend, losing my home, quitting the job I was being used and abused at for 2 months, and before I knew I would be calling my broke down van my home, I had the pleasure of enjoying my best friend come into her own. A brief moment in time with Warner Bailey and the Artist known as Ellenaj. Enjoy.
https://warnerbailey.podbean.com/e/promo-for-ellington-a-part-i-interview-w-ellenaj-join-us/
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
Day Ten
Hello, everyone. Today we are one-third of the way through Na/GloPoWriMo!
Our featured participant for the day is method two madness, where the small-and-large poem for Day 9 plays with repetition . . . and birds!
Today’s craft resource is this fascinating article that details the writing and revision process for a poem by former U.S. poet laureate Natasha Trethewey. It provides a really unique glimpse into a writer’s process, and the steps by which a poem takes its final shape.
Finally, here is our (optional) daily prompt. Usually, we take inspiration from our craft resource, but since our resource is about revision, we’ll go a bit further afield for this one! Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happing at once. A nice example might be Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a Fly buzz – when I died”, or this powerful poem by Sarah Green.
Happy writing!
Sounds Far,
Rain falls to the concrete from the night's sky like music notes
ding ding ding
The trolly passes me, I wonder how the wet tracks continue to conduct the electricity, is it safe?
Bombs landing so far away from farms and farming families look so close from the crops,
war, famine, poverty, lives, and limbs lost are not a part of the farming family's daily routine,
The sun directs the thoughts of the day,
war is not much different than when a baseball team wins a game,
if the harvest yield's we live to eat another day,
the seasons change
change is inevitable,
that is what the family prays for before meals while bombs detonate looking close while far away.
When the rumble in my stomach, like the bass drums played while I asked for another round to be delivered as quickly as possible to me and my friends' table, I shuttered to think that the vomit that insisted, would meet the same hard concrete and ruin the symphony that each raindrop had fallen, struck, and spread to create.
Amen. Everyone ate quietly, then prayed on bended knee before their beds.
Sleep came for the farmer's family once again.
The rooster will crow early morning, the sun will rise, bombs so far will not be heard until twilight until the war ends.
Who knew how beautiful it could be to mix the outcome of a stomach's drum beat with piano keys of a major music piece.
I was relieved to throw up the whiskey I should have never mixed with vodka and gin.
The rain stopped when I had safely arrived home to my 1 bedroom flat.
I could still hear the band play as I fell asleep with my dress and shoes still fastened to me.
The music, now sounding far away, started to fade.
Hello, everyone. Today we are one-third of the way through Na/GloPoWriMo!
Our featured participant for the day is method two madness, where the small-and-large poem for Day 9 plays with repetition . . . and birds!
Today’s craft resource is this fascinating article that details the writing and revision process for a poem by former U.S. poet laureate Natasha Trethewey. It provides a really unique glimpse into a writer’s process, and the steps by which a poem takes its final shape.
Finally, here is our (optional) daily prompt. Usually, we take inspiration from our craft resource, but since our resource is about revision, we’ll go a bit further afield for this one! Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happing at once. A nice example might be Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a Fly buzz – when I died”, or this powerful poem by Sarah Green.
Happy writing!
Sounds Far,
Rain falls to the concrete from the night's sky like music notes
ding ding ding
The trolly passes me, I wonder how the wet tracks continue to conduct the electricity, is it safe?
Bombs landing so far away from farms and farming families look so close from the crops,
war, famine, poverty, lives, and limbs lost are not a part of the farming family's daily routine,
The sun directs the thoughts of the day,
war is not much different than when a baseball team wins a game,
if the harvest yield's we live to eat another day,
the seasons change
change is inevitable,
that is what the family prays for before meals while bombs detonate looking close while far away.
When the rumble in my stomach, like the bass drums played while I asked for another round to be delivered as quickly as possible to me and my friends' table, I shuttered to think that the vomit that insisted, would meet the same hard concrete and ruin the symphony that each raindrop had fallen, struck, and spread to create.
Amen. Everyone ate quietly, then prayed on bended knee before their beds.
Sleep came for the farmer's family once again.
The rooster will crow early morning, the sun will rise, bombs so far will not be heard until twilight until the war ends.
Who knew how beautiful it could be to mix the outcome of a stomach's drum beat with piano keys of a major music piece.
I was relieved to throw up the whiskey I should have never mixed with vodka and gin.
The rain stopped when I had safely arrived home to my 1 bedroom flat.
I could still hear the band play as I fell asleep with my dress and shoes still fastened to me.
The music, now sounding far away, started to fade.
Sunday, April 1, 2018
April 1st Kicks Off The 1st Day of the 30/30 National Poetry Month Challenge
Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is based on a secret shame or a secret pleasure. It could be eating too many cookies or bad movies, or the time you told your sister she could totally brush her teeth with soap. It’s up to you. Happy writing!
A Secret Only I Can Keep
You make me laugh so hard my insides are bursting at the seems.
You asked me to tell you a secret and offered to do the same,
You promised to keep my secret
You promised to feel every ounce of pain,
You promised to keep your promises while you keep my secret pleasures and damning shame.
I don't want your secrets, those are yours to claim.
What makes a secret exactly what it is?
When does the trust end and the honesty begin?
If I told you what it is that I keep locked up, safely inside my heart, soul, spirit, mind,
If I shared the most inner parts of me,
If I released the quiet storm that rests only with me would it still be a secret or would it go by a new name?
How can I believe that you can hold on to my pain when it's not yours to brave?
What makes you think I would betray myself simply because you offered what you say is your own version of pleasure or pain?
I don't know how to play this game,
I am not interested in sharing my pain,
I keep mine and you can do the same.
So I lie and say that you are my pleasure and that I have no shame.
That is my secret, This is my God damn shame,
I lie to keep my secrets resting where they stay.
I lie to keep my honesty safe from pain.
You knew all along that I couldn't fake my shame so your test proved positive and nothing has changed.
We live in lies and secret shames built on top of the secret pleasures we both long for but die to save, never knowing fully what it's like to be free of the shame, pain, and misery we create and keep.
We live in lies and secret pains built on top of the secret pleasures we both long for but die to selfishly save, never knowing even for a second what it's like to be free and indulge in the pleasures of sharing all of ourselves together honestly, infinitely, sincerely as the real you and the real me.
Hush, while I tell you a secret, but once I do I'll disappear, I hope you come too.
-Warner Bailey 4/1/18
If you'd like to participate in this year's Poetry Month 30/30 Challenge (30 Poems in 30 days)
Join me and get prompts from this site:
Join me and get prompts from this site:
Friday, January 12, 2018
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