WOW

I've counted 6 DRAFTS since September 2019! What would you call that?

On one hand, I feel crappy to have not published so much work, especially since I actually put some type of effort in to them. And even more crappy about who I am that I don't complete so many wonderful things or things potentially wonderful. Smh.

On the other hand I am happy that the me from the past did that work so the future me doesn't have to do much, just tie up the loose ends.

Now. The power of Now. Now.

A post to a YouTube video.

"Help!" is what I've been screaming inside. I have and I can. Now is the time for "I Will."

How to Build a Powerful Brand and Explode...

@ 5:34 Totally Me! Www.WarneBaileyBlogging.WordPress.com & www.IsThisRealLifeReally.blogspot.com Quickly became www.WayTooMuch.Podbean.com a Podcast that I paid to upgrade for monetization purposes and never posted another show after that. I am still getting $40 a Month taken from my account and it's been almost a year.

*Important Disclaimer: I have been working on the Warner Bailey Project since 2017 as a 4th year #HOMELESS #DRUG #ADDICT #ALCOHOLIC which made it very hard to stay consistent. As of 1 month and 2 weeks ago I have finally moved into my own apartment and am ready to launch into The Warner Bailey Project which will become a movement.

I have a wealth of knowledge, experience, talent, skill, training, education, and pure Love to utilize. I procrastinate, I am a workaholic, I am healing from numerous tragedies. I am strong willed, I am powerful, I have a connection with a great source of energy that is so strong it can be seen with the naked eye. I am passionate about helping others, showing the world my humanity, I am bold and daring while living in fear and anonymity.

Thank you all for your comments, thank you for this post. I have read many of the comments here and have joined some of you on your journeys. I look forward to hearing, seeing, and building with you all.

Peas and blessings,

"Life Sucks and is so Beautiful."
-Warner Bailey

Don't worry anymore. 

I was here the whole time too. 

I saw you even when I didn't want to. I knew you were there, I just didn't want to look at you. 

Thank you. 

I think my love was so overwhelming for myself I resisted the pull. 

I attended the fair and rode the rides before. Like

Fiona said,

"I sleep to dream.", I

live for life itself 

and 

now I'm ready to live with you and you too.

I love.

Me.

You, I thank. 

-Warner Bailey

National Poetry Month - Day 29

And now for our penultimate (optional) prompt! The poet William Wordsworth once said that “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” For Wordsworth, a poem was the calm after the storm – an opportunity to remember and summon up emotion, but at a time and place that allowed the poet to calmly review, direct and control those feelings. A somewhat similar concept is expressed through the tradition of philosophically-inclined poems explicitly labeled as “meditations,” – like Robert Hass’s “Meditation at Lagunitas,” the charming Frank O’Hara prose poem, “Meditations in an Emergency,” or Charles Baudelaire’s “Meditation.”
Today, I’d like to challenge you to blend these concepts into your own work, by producing a poem that meditates, from a position of tranquility, on an emotion you have felt powerfully. You might try including a dramatic, declarative statement, like Hass’s “All the new thinking is about loss,” or O’Hara’s “It is easy to be beautiful; it is difficult to appear so.” Or, like, Baudelaire, you might try addressing your feeling directly, as if it were a person you could talk to. There are as many approaches to this as there are poets, and poems.
Happy writing!  I get my prompts HERE!

Life Sucks and is so beautiful

Life sucked so bad when all I wanted was a big brother. As an only child, I asked my Mother, begged and pleaded for a big brother. "That's not how that works." I remember her saying. Which ever way she responded each time I asked was the equivalent to "No."

How beautiful life is when I was United with a son my father had with another woman, not my Mother. He's older than me. We've grown to be very close. We get along famously. He is my big brother.

Life sucks and is so beautiful.

Life was beautiful in the beginning. Full of wonder, joy, peace, excitement, newness, comfort, Mommy, home, love, playing, learning, different, new, home, love, more, future, change, same, same home, same Mommy, same love. Striving for a plato of same while every now and then venturing off to new, to always come back to same.

Change.

Along the way I lost the will to wonder, I lost joy, peace, excitement, and comfort. Only newness was the same. I became uncomfortable, Mommy seemed so far away, home was far away until one day there was no home anywhere, anyway. Love felt lost, no more play. Still learning. Rapidly different, always new. No Mommy, no home, no love, no more, seemingly hopeless. Lost. Some unweighed portion of me still striving to come back, to what? I don't know, except the feeling of comfort, Mommy, Home.

Change.

Life sucks, I'm still not awake to be comfortable while Mommy still waits for me to come home.

National Poetry Month - Day 20

And now for our optional prompt! Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that “talks.” What does that mean? Well, take a look at this poem by Diane Seuss. While it isn’t a monologue, it’s largely based in spoken language, interspersed with the speaker/narrator’s own responses and thoughts. Try to write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life. You might incorporate overheard speech or a turn of phrase you heard once that stood out to you – the idea here is to get away from formally “poetic” speech and into the way language tends to work out loud.

Happy writing!

I get my prompts here!

Bits and Peices of Streets and People

Hey soul sista,

I overheard you say there's a party going on over there.

I almost wore my house slippers to the store, making it impossible to cut a rug. I can rip it up now, my favorite flats used to have thin straps across the top, I broke one then cut the other off, the shoes feel better now. 

I wanna dance to loud music all night long.

He is just a baby but he could feel the tension between Mommy and Daddy. I hope we eat soon, he thought.

Best friends laugh together so loud and hard. Faces red. Bellies aching. The laughter lasted a long time. Both friends have forgotten what was so funny in the first place. They laugh another few minutes anyway.

Laughter is contagious.

The man asking passerbys for money smelled of raw onions, rotten fish, burnt plastic, and Toe jam. He began to laugh too. Belly empty, feet blistered and bloody. Hair matted. Black dirt from head to toe.

What does the beggar have to laugh about?

Laughter was the last sound before falling into a deep sleep.

Nights like this I wish you were here with me to hold me close and discuss religion.

God bless us all.

"Life Sucks and is so Beautiful." - Warner Bailey

National Poetry Month Day 9

Our (optional) prompt for the day asks you to engage in another kind of cross-cultural exercise, as it is inspired by the work of Sei Shonagon, a Japanese writer who lived more than 1000 years ago. She wrote a journal that came to be known as The Pillow Book. In it she recorded daily observations, court gossip, poems, aphorisms, and musings, including lists with titles like “Things That Have Lost Their Power,” “Adorable Things,” and “Things That Make Your Heart Beat Faster.” Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own Sei Shonagon-style list of “things.” What things? Well, that’s for you to decide!

Happy writing!

I Get My Prompts Here!

Neighborhood Streets and Things I See

Scanning the world around me

The Ugly Beautiful Things

People

Places

Situations

On a side street somewhere in between the hustle and bustle of city boulevards, An old woman, broom in hand, argues heatedly with a young man. Indistinct words exchanged publicly on this little side street for me to see.

Early one Monday morning on the way to work I rode my bicycle for the better part of a mile. On my usual route, there's a hill I don't like to ride up. The hill makes me tired, bones and muscles ache. Sometimes I think it best to surrender to the land and walk this stretch of earth. 

Early one Monday morning on the way to work I made a left turn on to Pierce, I made a left turn on to the same street I always do riding my bike on the way to work.

Early this Monday morning as I made a left turn on to Pierce I noticed a dog running behind me as I pedaled toward the hill I thought better to walk up. I pedaled faster, dog ran faster. Approaching Glen Oaks I was made aware of several other dogs who had joined in on chasing me as I pedaled faster getting closer to the hill, the hill I thought better to walk up.

Dogs barking.

Pedaling.

Faster.

Faster.

Harder.

Chasing me.

Barking and growling,

this started to feel like an attack, not a friendly game between man's best friend and my bicycle and me.

Growing scared.

Frightened.

Confused.

The streets were bare, cars passing occasionally, nobody walking or riding a bicycle like me.

All alone with canine creatures chasing behind me. Barking, growling, running fast enough to catch up to me.

Hill approaching, I felt forced to push and pedal, fighting against gravity.

Tired bones, muscles aching. One dog had grown into many. I feared I would be bitten early on a Monday morning on my way to work by a pack of neighborhood dogs who no longer or never even have seemed friendly.

Make it up the Hill Bailey. Make it up the hill and reach the top where the land becomes flat again and the scary barking, growling, snarling dogs will lose their gain on me and I can once again ride my bicycle to work freely, enjoying the early Monday morning breeze like never before because now I would have survived the most unusual and unexpected attack on an early Monday morning, riding my bicycle on my way to work.

-Warner Bailey

Written to the sounds of John Coltrane and his My Favorite Things

National Poetry Month Day 2

Photo by
jaymantri

Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is based on this poem by Claire Wahmanholm, which transforms the natural world into an unsettled dream-place. One way it does this is by asking questions – literally. The poem not only contains questions, but ends on a question. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that similarly resists closure by ending on a question, inviting the reader to continue the process of reading (and, in some ways, writing) the poem even after the poem ends.

Happy writing!

I get my prompts here!

A Poem

Good Morning

I ask myself this morning,

 "What is my purpose"?

• To be close with God
• To show my light to any and everyone and when asked what that light is or where it's come from, tell them God is shining through me
• Be humble... I shouldn't know when I'm being humble or I may not even be being humble
• Help someone else quietly
• Be grateful
• Take time to be still
• Love

So what's your purpose for today?

Let's spread knowledge and Love.

Financial Life Hacks

Let These Life Hacks Help with Your Finances

New Episode of Way Too Much with Warner Bailey

Have You Ever Harmed Yourself?

I Have.

In this episode of Way Too Much with Warner Bailey, we meet a young woman who calls herself Blade, we later find out why.

A survivor of kidnapping, drug use, and abuse, Blade shares her experiences in different forms of art and discussion.

https://warnerbailey.podbean.com/e/addicts-come-in-all-sizes/

https://warnerbailey.podbean.com/mf/play/p84c2y/Davis_Woods_Girls_With_Addictions_1_.mp3

Early Morning Thoughts

My body wakes up at 5:30 no matter what these days. I rather like it. I used to hate being up before 9 am and really before Noon. Businesses aren't open, it's still dark but the vibe isn't the same as when night falls.
I have an all-electric car now and so I'm starting a routine of charging at a charging station which takes about 30 mins. So, while I wait I write.
I get sober, a home, and good food in my body and this is what I produce.
This is just a flop piece as I see it but it's like getting a body in shape, practice, practice, practice.
It's cool to be writing again. My finger placement is al off so I'll be doing a lot of editing. For example... I want to type something but it comes out like this, JUst am exam0pl... exampl). LOL!
Stay on this amazing rollercoaster called life with me. It's a heck of a ride.

Just my early morning thoughts.

Boomer Lives!

"Life sucks and is so Beautiful"
-Warner Bailey

A Style so Free it Takes over me

I create bombs

literature that makes minds explode

losing minds

forgetting what was taught

remembering what was sold

Lies

"Why", they ask.

"Just because.

"When", they ask

"Now".

It will always be Now

Forever

Constantly Now

And Now

Right Now

-Warner Bailey

"Life Sucks and is so Beautiful"

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.

Way Too Much with Warner Bailey: New Episode!

Promo:

ELLENAJ

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/

How Ass is My Behind?

I've got some great titles for a few unfinished pieces, mainly blog posts and business reviews, "Where the Wild Things Are", "The 3rd Year was the Worst", and "Catch Up!" are a few.
As I sit in my van on a side street of Encino, next to the freeway, I welcome the disappearance of the sun and the cool air that comes along with. I just ingested a half of a Xanax, ate a Cup of Noodle mixed with part of a can of Hot Dog Chilli from the Dollar Tree, and am sipping slowly on my famous Big Gulp Cup filled with ice and watered down Coco-Nut-Rita. Chopin plays in the background while the town's people go inside closed doors to rest before Monday arrives and brings a new week of monotony for their poor souls to envelop. Life is kind to me, I am at peace. I continue typing, hoping to excrete something worth reading, hoping not to pass out from the benzodiazepine that will surely take over firstly my feet, then my legs, with the rest of my body following, I wonder which will go limp first, my brain or my fingers.

Prelude in E minor Op. 28 No. 4

It seems to be easier for me to write titles lately than to actually put my heart on the page. I had been on such a roll and then, electricity deficiency, malnourishment, depression, and fear set in. I began writing these epic pieces in my head swearing I would get them down on paper at some point, somehow. I recognized my lack in progress and so with every bit of energy I could muster up I began writing, even if I couldn't finish, I didn't want to lose the thoughts behind what I knew would be extraordinary pieces. I collected names of the people who inspired me. I revealed my identity to the kind souls I would meet. I will connect each puzzle piece to my Prelude.

I now know why this chapter has appeared in my story, the story of me, Warner Bailey. I am a woman who no longer calls herself a girl. I am a woman. I am grown up from my childish past. I have an understanding of life that I had but forgot. I'm remembering now. I am learning how. I am a writer, always have been, always will be. I've been living out these stories. I am living the dream. I have so much wonder and excitement still in me, it's overflowing. I will hover over blank pages and let it all spill. Colorful ink droplets of love, loss, strength, courage, dark, light, hope, and power. Read me, but don't read between my lines please, there lays nothing. My imagination is great. My spirit and soul are both young and old. I possess gifts that only I can give.

If you're still reading and wondering which goes limp first, the brain or the fingers, it's the brain in this case for me. And there go the fingers. I'm struggling to press the last keys.

Tonight I will fall asleep to the sounds of Chopin making love to black and white keys. I will dream of good things and awake to another California morning, I hope to take this feeling of calm with me to tomorrow. We shall see. My wish is that you will join me.

Goodnight you princes and princesses of Maine, you kings and queens of New England.

Chopin - Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2

"Life Sucks and is so Beautiful."-Warner Bailey

Featured: Morning Addition "Purpose"

Good Morning All ☀️!

Happy Day After Birthday to Me 🎂!

Enjoy this perfect day, let's dish about where I've been later 😉

Today's Feature is brought to you by Medium. I love this site/app (not a paid endorsement, just an honest opinion). I literally just became a member right now.

I woke up this morning feeling renewed and motevated. This read by Dan Pedersen helped boost my spirits and captured my sense of rejuvenation.

It's a quick read and I hope you can take it and apply it today, I know I am.

You can find it here:

“Purpose” https://medium.com/personal-growth/purpose-5057a5493907

They

Who is they?
They are the ones who are not me.
They will say that too.
They are the ones who are not you.
They will say you are a fool.
They are the ones who are not us.
They hate us. They hate them.
Who is they?
They are what we are not.
They are not happy, free, justified, joyous, kings, queens.
They are not sad, lonely, tired, in need.
They have names, faces, numbers, fame.
Who gave you life? Not They.
Who hurt you More while you were in pain? They.
Who won't ask? Not They.
Who takes? They.
Who listens? Not They.
Who talks to you, not with you? They.
There's not much to explain, it is simple.
They will always be.
Don't be confused.
They can be anyone.
For Those who ask who They is,
Tell them,
Maybe They is You.
You could never be your worst enemy.
They will be Them
I will be Me
You will be You.
Who is They?
If you have to ask,
You're one of Them or They've got a hold on You.

30/30 Poetry Challenge DAY 12!!! Not a High Coup but a High Bun

My first haibun. Enjoy!

I thought it would be super hard and I was prepared for a struggle. I made a joke to myself that it would end up being one of the easiest poems yet. Is This Real Life? Really??? Oh yes, really, so easy.

I was going to write more. I was going to do the long version, Prose/Haiku/Prose/Haiku, etc.

When I wrote the last line of the Haiku, which had me stumped for a few minutes, I decided to read what I had from the top. Lo and behold, I was impressed. I felt that any more would take away from the impact I received. I wouldn't deprive you of that. 

Our craft resource for the day is an essay by Aimee Nezhukumatathil on writing haibun – a Japanese form that blends prose-based travel writing with haiku.

Today’s (optional) prompt picks up from our craft resource. We’ve challenged you to tackle the haibun in past years, but it’s such a fun one, we couldn’t resist again. Today, we’d like to challenge you specifically to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. It may be the high sierra, dusty plains, lush rainforest, or a suburbia of tiny, identical houses – but wherever you live, here’s your chance to bring it to life through the charming mix-and-match methodology of haibun.

Recreational Vehicle Home

I didn't want to ever sleep on the bare earth again

Without a home, I thought, at least I'm not alone

After paying for the room with his arm and a leg,

we couldn't afford to stay

She offered me a place, temporarily, I told him I didn't want to go.

when we arrived at the vehicle I said we would not stay for long

A temporary solution to a permanent problem.

The problem is Me

The problem is Him

I left, came back, I was still there.

My home is on wheels

Pour me

A drink makes it disappear

Like outside again.

-Warner Bailey

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: